Page 93 of Intimately Faithful

The hand on his thigh stroked slowly without sexual enticement, but with enough love he felt it thrumming through his chest.

His girl was back where she belonged, and he was on his way to making all her dreams come true … whatever they may be once she decided what she wanted out of life.

He was happy.

Completely, without a crevice of emptiness left.

Danny was happy.

“Thank you,” he mouthed upwards.

His new path finally aligned with his old path and he was more than happy with the direction he was headed in.

* * *

Nine months later

“Higher, Danny. Push me higher!” the swing climbed into the sky and she would swear she saw angels on clouds as she descended back to earth with a laugh as Danny caught the playground swing bringing it to a gentle stop.

Nine blissful months together and they still found time to go back to their roots of Galway when they could and play like children.

Of course it usually ended up with Danny’s hand up her skirt and her crying into his mouth when he made her blind with pleasure.

They planned a trip this spring to go back home.

Until then, they played when they could.

The moment she jumped down from the swing, his hands were there to catch her as she scaled her husband like he was the most gorgeous mountain in all of Colorado, kissing his face like a lunatic.

“Zara and Rider are having a cookout this weekend. Can we go, Danny?” Over the last few months they’d become close to the biker leader and his family, surprisingly. Aoife now had a whole heap of women friends she regularly hung out with.

“I’m not sure I like this excitement you show about being around those bikers.”

She giggled, loving his jealousy, even if it was pretend. “Oh, get away with you. I have eyes only for a tearaway Irish boy who does the most despicable things to me before he stands in church and preaches a lovely sermon.”

“You say despicable, but your cries of pleasure tell a whole different story, Aoife.”

Aye, so they do. Maybe one of these days, Danny could buy a big chrome motorcycle.

Who would have thought she’d settle into being a pastor’s wife and a mammy as easy as she had? Certainly not Aoife. But every day was a new adventure and each night when she crawled into bed with her sexy as hell husband, she did it knowing she’d had a great day with another one to look forward to in a few hours.

“How many children do you think we should be having, Danny?” She liked saying surprising things to turn him into a gibbering idiot, or when his eyes turned to dark smoke and heavy lidded as they were now. “Ten is a nice round number but then that would make eleven with Misha and I don’t like odd numbers, so either nine or eleven more, you can decide.”

He scoffed good and sexy, putting his pastor hands all over her backside with a tight squeezing motion. “Thanks for letting me have some say, Mrs. Murphy.”

“You’re welcome. Should we go home and start?”

He blinked and his Adam’s apple bobbed, and she felt him growing hard.

God, this man. She’d never tire of seeing how much love he felt for her in his eyes.

It was there every second of the day, even when they bickered like cats and dogs and then made up in a blaze of hot, Irish passion.

“Now? You want to do babies now? I have to finish my Sunday service, Aoife.”

“You need to put a Murphy in me, Daniel.”

Kisses roamed all over his face, dropped to his mouth, the same mouth waiting open for her with his eager tongue she sucked desperately. Her hips wriggled in his hands as he strolled across the playground, thank God it was empty. “I want a rambunctious boy with your hair and eyes and a heart so big it makes a little ginger haired girl fall madly in love with him on sight.”

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