Page 31 of Troubled Water
And ensuring the threat against my wife doesn’t take that dream from us before Bethany even has the chance to tell me.
27
YESTERDAY
It’s been ten years and my wife can still make my dick harden as rigid as a spike merely by swaying her ass from side to side. Ten years of supporting each other’s hopes and dreams. Of going to bed in each other’s arms as many nights as we can in spite of two insanely demanding careers.
It’s been a decade of knowing that we’re more in love today than when we spoke our vows under the Texas sun. All we’ve done is grow and build the perfect foundation for our future together. I want to spend eternity with her by my side. Maybe with a few mini-B’s thrown into the mix. Huh. Maybe tonight I can convince my wife I’m just as ready as she is for a family.
I admire her curves and taut body, loving the throb behind my slacks and pissed as fuck I can’t do anything about it despitehaving originally taken today off. Still, it’s a high to know I, and I alone, know that beneath the rough and tumble exterior of a plaid shirt, torn jeans, and worn-in construction boots, few scraps of lace cover her luscious breasts and cup the tantalizing entrance to her pussy.
The first time I saw the entrancing combination in our old condo, I didn’t bother to ask my wife why. After all, I’d just fucked her raw during our first time together. Later, after regaining my breath, I recall saying, “Why wear something so uncomfortable?”
She’d just finished picking up the shreds of material I’d torn apart before replying, “Because Iama woman, Parker.” She smiled mischievously. “And I like shocking my husband.”
My wife is one of the few people on the planet who still gets away with calling me by my given name. Hearing it in her lazy Texan drawl never fails to make me want to make her scream it. My eyes roamed her luscious form. “I doubt anyone would deny that, B.”
“This is for me—to remind myself of that.” Her lips curved even as she concluded, “Though I do enjoy your appreciation of it.”
I still do. I did then. I do now, even though she’s more than the woman taking my dick on a regular basis. For the last decade, she’s been my woman. One I’d die for in a heartbeat.
Just the thought sends chills up my spine as I study her carriage as she makes her way toward the exit of our bedroom. Savagely, I vow the same thing I do every single day.I will keep her safe, no matter the cost.
I call out, “Bethany?”
Her head whips around, blond hair settling around her chin. “Yes?”
Dropping the ends of the Silvio Fiorello tie she got me for Christmas about eight weeks ago, I stride to where she’sstanding and cup her face. “I’m sorry. If there was any other way, I would have rescheduled this.”
The disappointment that lit Bethany’s eyes when I explained why I might be late for our anniversary party being thrown by the Sullivans at the office of Deja Vu recedes with my apology. She, more than anyone else, knows I have no real control over my schedule. Even being the man in charge, director of an intelligence agency equally feared and revered around the world, there are certain things that I have absolutely no control over.
Today’s spectacle is one of them.
She reaches up, her dainty fingers clutching my thick wrists. If it weren’t for the callouses on her hands, I’d never have believed this petite beauty could have a strength to match my own. Gorgeous, yes. I knew that already from the first time we met. But the core of steel that makes my wife who she is never ceases to amaze me. Every day I thank a series of gods for bringing Bethany McAllister back into my life. After living a life where I did everything to keep myself from drowning in the abyss, I never imagined I’d have a partner to navigate the troubled waters with me.
I never could have expected her to be strong enough to take on a man like me and all the demons that live inside my soul.
Rising on her toes, as best as she can in her hard-soled shoes, she aims her kiss so her lips will brush against mine gently. I slide my arms around her, intent on fusing our mouths together. I’m begging without words—pleading for forgiveness for something I have absolutely no control over.
Then there’s that feeling I can’t shake. One that intensified since the phone call to my secure line. Why today?
Why does someone need to interrogate me today about my preliminary clearance paperwork? Shit, that crap isn’t due to be re-upped for another six months.
Desperately, I clutch her to me—irrationally fearing if I let go, I’ll never see her again. The last time I felt like this, I was a SEAL in hostile territory, and there was a Zodiac I was desperately trying to swim toward with a bullet hole in my shoulder.
Sliding my hands around her, one behind her neck and the other around her waist, I deepen the kiss, telling my wife in no uncertain terms she’s who I want to be with today, our wedding anniversary—not a polygrapher and multiple agents grilling me on any and all aspects of my career.
Again.
Long minutes pass before she pulls back. Her peaches and cream skin is flushed from the intensity of our kiss. Her perfect hair is mussed. Her eyes are several degrees warmer when she pulls back to stare up at me.
This time, I don't feel unsettled when I stare down into my wife’s turbulent blue eyes. I’m still frustrated at life for throwing another monkey wrench in our reality. Pressing my forehead against hers, I murmur, “I’ll do everything I can.”
Her breath comes out in a rush before she relents, “I know you will.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you today, B. I love you.”
“I love you, Parker.” For just a moment, something unguarded filters through my wife’s eyes. It flashes through so briefly I can’t read it. Her hand reaches up and cups my chin. “You know that, right?”
