Page 15 of Wed By the Lumberjack

“I know,” he licks his lips and looks away. “I just meant, don’t you want to do that in the bathroom?”

I ball the shirt up in my hands and fiddle with it, not liking the way this conversation is going. “Why? Are you afraid the neighbors will see?” I joke, looking out the window at the miles of forest that surround the cabin.

“No,” Heath says dismissively. “I just thought it’d be easier if you got undressed upstairs.”

For who?

Is it that he doesn’t want to see me naked? I peek at him sheepishly. He’s my husband. He’s seen my body over a hundred times, right? So why do I suddenly feel so self-conscious as I press my balled-up shirt to my chest?

“Heath?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we newlyweds?”

He did say my things were still packed. Maybe that’s why I had all that stuff in the truck? Maybe I’d just moved in. I scan the kitchen now. There weren’t many hints of things I liked or used, like lemon dish soap or the hand lotion I always kept next to the sink because dry skin made me itch like crazy.

He looks taken aback. “I guess you could say that. It is relatively new, yes.”

Had we waited for marriage to have sex? Is that why he’s still shy about seeing me naked? Or were we a couple that only did it in the dark or in low lighting?

I stare at his tattooed hands and remember the way he grabbed my waist at the hospital and the way he squeezed my thigh in the car. No. There’s no way Heath’s a man who only has sex in the dark.

Or at least I hope not.

Throwing the shirt from my chest, I proceed with my original plan. I don’t want a shy marriage. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but the only good feeling I can remember for the past twenty-four hours is being inside of Heath’s arms. I want to be in them again. Without clothes.

“Dixie–”

“What?” I ask, unclasping my bra and freeing my breasts. I’m not the most confident, but I’m confident about my girls. They’re immaculate regardless of a little bit of sag. That’s just what big tits do.

Heath licks his lips again, his eyes transfixed on my nipples. “I think you should–”

“I think you should join me. In the shower,” I say getting to my feet and reaching for the waistband of the sweatpants Heath bought me from the hospital’s gift store. I was wearing skin-tight jeans when I crashed my truck, and there was no way I was getting them back on over this bum knee.

Heath’s eyes follow my motions, his jaw clenching the minute I roll the dark gray fabric down my hips. I’m not wearing any underwear. The gift shop didn’t have any.

“I...”

I step out of them and kick them to the side before sauntering up to Heath and wrapping my arms around his neck. Immediately his hands fly to my waist, his fingertips just centimeters from grazing my ass but he won’t move his hands any lower.

I trace his lips with my eyes and it’s the first time I’ve noticed he hasn’t kissed me yet. Earlier on the ride home, he kissed my forehead, but not my lips. Even if I tiptoed, I wouldn’t be able to reach him though, and something in me wants him to bend down and kiss me first.

“Dixie, I...”

“You what?” I breathe, pressing my body tighter against his, and the moment I feel his massive erection digging into my stomach, he lets me go and backs up into the kitchen with his hands up like he’s under freaking arrest.

What the heck is going on?

“I have to get you something to eat,” he mumbles, turning to the fridge. “What do you want to eat? I can make sandwiches. Or soup. Or both.”

“You.”

“What?”

“I want to put my mouth on you,” I say in frustration. “And I want you to devour me with yours.”

“Dixie–” he groans.

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