Page 111 of Married to Number 22
To talk to him.
He touches the backs of his knuckles to my cheek. “You love me?”
I nod and givehimthis gift, this piece of me, knowing he needs it, knowing its beauty is what brings us closer together. Not because I’m trying to pay him back or make up for him helping me…
Because our love isn’t a barter system.
It’s unquantifiable…and the best freaking feeling in the world.
So, how can I deny him that?
“I think I’ve loved you from the first time we shared a pretzel together at the rink,” I say, covering his hand with mine, soul swelling with joy when he smiles at the memory.
“Because I gave you the bigger half?” he teases.
“Because that was when you first showed me your heart.” I settle my hand over his chest. “Showed me how pure and good it is.”
“Luns,” he murmurs, face going serious. “I’ve been wanting to tell you I love you since you walked back into my life.”
My pulse speeds, but it’s not relief I’m feeling.
I already know he loves me—because he’s done nothing but show that love to me, over and over again.
“I know you do,” I tell him softly.
His expression is gentle as his fingers flex on my cheek. “I love you, my tiny tornado. You clear all the unnecessary nonsense out of my life and leave nothing but clear blue skies in your wake.”
“I loveyou.” I shift closer. “And this big, beautiful heart that lets you take a chance on a woman who brings storm clouds and thunderstorms into your life that you manage to ward off without even an umbrella.”
His green eyes swim with emotion.
And I’m staring at him through watery lenses too. But I don’t want to cry. I want to celebrate and I want to drink hot cocoa and I want to fall into bed with this man and kiss every inch of his body.
So, I don’t let the tears fall.
Instead, I take his hand, draw him over to the stool, and I say, “And now I think we’ve surpassed our weather analogies for the night, don’t you?”
He grins, draws me into the vee of his legs. “I never know what you’re going to say, Luns.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “And that’s one of the many,manythings I love about you, sweetheart.”
“It’s Hot chocolate time,” I whisper, mostly so I don’t cry.
“That’ll come later,” he says, rising to his feet at the same time as he hefts me up, tossing me over his shoulder. “First, I want to kiss my woman.”
“Kind of hard to kiss me in this position,” I tell him…or rather, I tell his lush, yummy, bounce-a-quarter-off-of hockey player’s ass.
He laughs but keeps pounding up the stairs. “I don’t want to kiss your lips. Or at least not those ones,” he says with a wicked grin. Something I see because he’s hefted me again, dropping me onto the mattress and climbing over the top of me.
“Funny,” I say, reaching for the waistband of my pants, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
A searing look as he starts to strip me naked. “That’s why you’re perfect,” he murmurs. “And mine.” He yanks off my pants, nips at the indent of my waist. “And also why I’m never letting you go.”
He kisses me, long and slow and deep…and eventually, on both sets of lips.Heh.
But through that gloriousness, I manage to say what’s inmyheart too.
“Because I give you blow jobs?” I tease him breathlessly as guides me through an orgasm, quickly starts sending me up the edge for another.
He pauses, head lifting, eyes coming to mine.
