Page 143 of Nineteen Letters
I giggle at his reply, but if he can make love anything like he can kiss, then I don’t doubt it for a second.
He places me down gently beside the bed.
“Let me be the judge of that,” I say.
“You’re probably going to put him off his game now.”
“Really? Do you think maybe he’s been talking himself up?”
“Not a chance in hell,” he grumbles, making me laugh. “He’s just a bit rusty. He hasn’t done this in a while.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hand down the side of his face. “I’m sorry I hurt you … I’m sorry I couldn’t remember how much I loved you.”
“It’s okay, Jem. Even in the tough times, I never gave up hope that you’d find your way back to me.”
“Thank you for not giving up on me …on us.”
“That was never going to happen. We were meant to be.”
He places his lips on mine before reaching for the zipper on my jacket. My body momentarily tenses as he drags it open.
“Can we turn off the light?”
He draws back, studying my face. “Why?”
“My scars,” I say, bowing my head.
He places a finger under my chin, raising my gaze back to his. “Your scars are a part of you, and there’s nothing about you I don’t love.”
He brushes the hair back from the side of my face before planting a tender kiss on the scar beside my temple. Tilting my head back, I whimper as his mouth softly trails a path across my jawline and down my neck.
Gently pushing the fabric off my shoulder, he places another tender kiss on the hideous scar that runs down my arm. It’s where the surgeon made the long incision so he could insert screws in my broken bones.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers as his lips find their way back to mine.
And just like that, all my insecurities vanish, because I know he means every word. His love for me is unconditional …I feel it.
Chapter 38
Braxton
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up from it.Jemma’s here… in our room, and about to spend the night.
I can’t even tell you how many times I wished for this exact moment, but now that it’s here, I’m suddenly in two minds. I want this with every fibre of my being, but I’m worried that it’s too much, too soon for her.
For me, it’s been a long time coming …too long. I’ve been suppressing that aching need for my wife from the moment I found out she’d been in an accident. I doubted if I’d ever get to be with her like this again. Yet here we are.
Begrudgingly, I pull out of the kiss. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I repeat.
I don’t know if my battered heart can handle another rejection, but I need to know she’s all in before this goes any further.
“I’m sure … a gazillion percent sure. Please don’t stop,” she murmurs, dragging my mouth back to hers.
It’s crazy how life works sometimes. Yesterday I was in the pits of hell, doubting everything. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t give up on winning her back, because my life withouther is unimaginable. But there were brief moments when I contemplated doing just that.
I was tired and disillusioned.
After I sent the eighteenth letter and nothing between us changed, I went into a downward spiral. It’s the first time since this nightmare started that I’d truly lost hope in us and everything we once shared.
