Page 38 of Wake Me Up
Swallowing her food, she grabs a bottle of iced tea and begins to twist it open. “She’s been good. She wanted to go to school while we wait for the surgery, and the doctor said it was okay as long as she doesn’t do anything that would trigger her epilepsy. I’m really hoping she doesn’t have any more seizures before the surgery. If she does, we may have to move up the surgery to sooner.” She grimaces. “Or she might even have to stay in the hospital until the operation, and that would be … hard on the entire family.” With every second that she talks about her daughter and the surgery, the further she seems to be away from me.
I study her face, and instantly, she fidgets nervously.
“And what about you? How are you feeling about it?” I ask the question as gently as I can.
I want her to know she can open up to me about it, and I’ll listen, but I also don’t want to come off as being pushy. Freya strikes me as a very independent woman, and why wouldn’t she be? She’s spent the past five years raising her kids by herself.
At first, I think she’s about to plaster on a fake smile and tell me she’s good and that everything is A-okay. I’m sure for her kids, that’s what she always has to do because she never wants them to feel bad for her. But after a few moments of silence, her nose scrunches up, and she frowns.
“Honestly? I’m having a really hard time with it. I understand this doctor is the best. I know this surgery is what needs to happen next.” She wipes a tear from her eye before it makes it down her cheek. “She’s my little baby though. My one job in this world is to protect those three, and when she’s lying on a table … at the mercy of someone else’s hands? I feel like I’m not doing my job.” She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and sniffles. “Sorry. Here I am, ruining our wedding day.” She chuckles sadly. “I’m a depressing date, huh?”
I don’t know what comes over me or why I do it, but suddenly, I’m reaching up, swiping a rolling tear from her cheek with my thumb. “She’s going to be fine, Freya,” I utter.
Big, wide eyes stare at me as my thumb remains on her soft cheek. She doesn’t move back though. She just freezes like a statue.
I don’t know if it’s her husband sending me a warning message to back off his wife or just shit luck on my end, but either way, the sky opens up, and cold, heavy rain begins to fall out of nowhere, sending us both shooting up off the rock.
Quickly gathering all of our stuff, I move the blanket so that it’s not wrapped around her enough to trip her and grab her hand before tugging her upward with me. “Come on,” I yell over the sound of the falling rain, pulling her along off the beach and toward my house.
I glance back at her to find the blanket trailing behind her, her hair completely soaked and water dripping down her face. It’s cold enough that it sends a shiver right down my spine, and when I see her teeth chattering, I tell her to drop the soaked blanket and I’ll get it later.
I need to get her out of those wet, cold clothes and get her into something dry.
When we reach my front door, I decide to be a smart-ass and lift her up into my arms before carrying her over the threshold and into my house. This marriage might not be exactly the real deal, but I’d like to at least treat her like it is—if she’ll let me. And with someone like her and everything she’s been through, I think she could use some lighthearted shit from time to time. I’m usually the last guy to provide that, but for this woman? It’s all I want to do if it means she’ll smile at me.
Her body tenses a bit in my arms, but she doesn’t fight me off. She doesn’t wrap her arms around my neck or anything though, but that’s all right because getting her to actually like me is going to take time. Lucky for her, I’m a pretty patient guy.
I look down at her, my own hair dripping from the rain. “I figured we might as well have one traditional thing that starts our marriage off right.” I keep her in my arms because I’m not ready to let her go.
Slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “I guess you’re right,” she whispers before looking down at her soaked clothes. “And I didn’t even know it was going to rain today.”
I don’t know if it’s just the fact that we’re alone in my house and she’s in my arms or because her clothes are clinging to her in a way that makesme want to tear them from her body. Whatever it is has made the air in here thicker, and my heart pounds in my chest as I wish we could get even closer.
My eyes float to her lips before I can stop them, and my cock twitches, making me thankful I have her lifted up against my stomach or else she’d know just how badly she turns me on and how much I want her.
“Freya …” I rasp her name desperately, blowing my cover.
She stares up at me, and I swear I can hear her heart racing in her chest. There’s fear in her eyes, but that fear is accompanied by a dazed look too. One that tells me she might just like being this close to me.
“Yeah?” Her tone is uneasy in the air of my big, empty house.
“I’d really like to kiss you again,” I utter, my eyes dancing around her face to get a grip on how she’s feeling right now. “Can I?”
“We shouldn’t,” she whispers quickly. “Earlier … well, that was for show. There’s no one here to show off for now.”
I can’t hide the disappointment on my face, and I almost push her limits and bring my mouth closer to hers. I want to so fucking badly, but I know this day has been a lot for her, and I don’t want to make it worse. So, reluctantly, I give up on kissing her pouty lips. For now anyway. Even though I know she’s feeling this agonizing tension that I am. She has to be.
Slowly, I begin to set her down on her feet. The mascara she had on for our wedding is smudged under her eyes, her hair is completely soaked, and yet she’s breathtaking.
Looking down at herself, she pats her hands on her wet clothes. “This fleece is soaked,” she mumbles before suddenly peeling it over her head. “Do you have a plastic bag I can put it in so it doesn’t drip everywhere?”
I’m so in awe of the sight before me that I can’t even muster up an answer. Through her long-sleeved black shirt, her nipples are on display, and it’s hard not to stare, though I know I need to stop being a fucking pervert and go get my wife a plastic bag before she catches me. Her tits are perky, and I wish I could motorboat the fuck out of them.
“Uh, yep.”
I force my eyes down and walk toward the kitchen. After grabbing a bag, I return a few seconds later to find her folding her hands over her chest.
She cringes when her eyes take me in. “I forgot that I didn’t … well, when I changed out of my sweater dress, I took my bra off, too, because it was digging into my sides.” She blushes, biting down on her soaked lip to stop her from talking anymore.
