Page 25 of When You're Home for the Holidays
She washed her hair twice, not satisfied that it was clean until her scalp tingled from her rosemary mint shampoo. She ran a loofah over every inch of her skin, then turned the temperature all the way down for a few seconds, reveling in the icy blast. The freezing water shocked her nerves awake and served as a reminder as to why she had to endure hot flashes in the first place.
She was alive. There was no cancer in her body. She had taken every preemptive measure possible to ensure she would live a long and healthy life. The first surgery was behind her. Her next surgery was less than a week away. It all felt hard right now, but that was okay. Now wasn’t forever.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel. She combed through her hair and worked it into a braid, then brushed her teeth for good measure.There. That was better.
She felt considerably calmer now that she was clean and had a few moments alone to process her feelings. The hot flashes pissed her off, even though the logical part of her brain knew why they happened. She would never know for sure if opting for elective risk-reducing surgeries made a difference. But she had to let herself believe that she had made the best choices given the information and options available.
She glanced around the bathroom to find a water bottle and a pajama set sitting on the vanity. She couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed on her face. She cracked open the water and downed it. Then she slipped into the shorts and cami set. It wasn’t anything she had brought with her—Rhett must have gone through her summer things in the basement and picked out something cooler for her to sleep in.
She emerged from the bedroom to find her husband remaking the bed. His bicep bulged as he held the mattress in the air and tugged the corner of the fitted sheet into place. Why was watching him make the bed so hot?
He must have sensed her eyes on him. He glanced up and smiled before letting the mattress drop with a satisfying thud. “Fresh sheets,” he declared, holding his arm out to present her with his work.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as she walked across the room. She pressed her body against his and stretched up on her toes for a kiss.
“Oh yes, I did.” Rhett wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Feel better?” he asked against her mouth. He let his lips just barely brush against hers before moving to kiss the pulse point below her ear. His stubbled jaw scraped against the sensitive skin on her neck and sent a shiver down her spine.
“All better,” she confirmed, pulling away and offering him a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Almost everything about this year had been harder than she had expected. She hated that the side effects of surgery still consumed so much of their time together. She knew it wasn’t going to get better anytime soon, considering her next procedure was just a few days away.
She couldn’t help but feel a tug of guilt about waking him up in the middle of the night. Rhett had struggled with insomnia for a while. So much of it was stress-induced, and he'd relied on alcohol to cope with the sleepless nights over the summer. She didn’t worry about him drinking nowadays—he wouldn’t dare—but she still hated how all this affected him. “I’m sorry that I interrupted your sleep.”
“V,” he scolded, lifting his hands to cup her face and force her eyes to meet his gaze. “Don’t. Don’t pretend that what you’re going through negatively affects me in any way. I am in charge of my own decisions, my choices, and my actions. I wanted to get up and take care of my wife, so that’s what I did.” He gave her a stern look that had her nodding in understanding.
She blinked away tears before speaking her fear. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me all the time. I hate needing help. I hate how my body is different now, how we have to do things differently because of what I chose to do. I hate feeling like a burden.”
She felt the growl of objection rumble in his chest before he pulled away and held her at arm’s length. He grasped her by the shoulders, turned her around, and started marching her toward the large windows on the far side of the bedroom. His touch was firm, almost demanding, in sharp contrast to the way he usually held her. He didn’t stop pushing until her body was just inches from the glass.
“You see that spot out there, beautiful?” Her eyes adjusted easily to the moonlit landscape of fresh snow, then her gaze landed on the wooden bench swing down by the lake, right next to where they held their wedding ceremony.
Rhett lined his body up with hers, his bare chest pressing into her back, his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. “I made promises to you at that spot,” he whispered. She could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear. “I took vows.”
He kissed down the side of her neck, along the top of her shoulder. Then he brushed her braid to the side and placed a kiss at the base of her neck. One arm tightened around her midsection while his other hand moved up to grasp her throat.
“You are mine. Mine to take care of. Mine to cherish. Mine to love forever.”
Everything about his touch was possessive; a firm reminder of his desire, a claiming of her body and soul. She felt herself go soft in his arms. She leaned back and gave him her weight, letting him hold her up as she turned her head to speak.
“Show me,” she begged.
Rhett’s grip on her throat tightened for just a moment before his mouth crashed into hers. He kissed her with the same possessiveness of his words, his tongue demanding entrance and dominating her in the most delicious ways. It was a kiss designed to remind her of who she belonged to—who had never given up on her, on them, on the possibility of what they could be. It was a kiss that made promises for the future and reminded her of the vows they shared.
His hands caressed along her body and cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her camisole. Tori’s palms met the glass of the window as she pushed back to grind her ass into his erection. He pinched her nipples, sending a jolt of wanting to her clit before brushing over the hardened peaks with the tips of his fingers.
“Mine,” he growled as he tugged on her nipples again. She moaned as he grazed both hands down the front of her body. “And I take care of what’s mine.”
He hooked his fingers on the elastic of her sleep shorts and pulled them down in one fluid motion. In the next breath, she heard him drop to the ground. She glanced back to find her husband on his knees.
He cocked one eyebrow in question—he needed to make sure she was okay before he’d make another move. She nodded in encouragement, biting down on her lip as anticipation gathered in her core. She was warm and tingly all over, but it had nothing to do with the hot flashes from earlier.
Rhett ran his hands up both her thighs, encouraging her to widen her stance. She hurried to offer herself to him, arching her back slightly to grant him more access. He spread her open from behind before thrusting his tongue into her pussy. She gasped and almost stumbled, but he was ready for her. He moved one hand to her low back to steady her while the other reached around her front and found her clit.
He made quick work of licking her up and down, marking and savoring her everywhere. His tongue sought every nerve, his appetite for pleasing her insatiable. Before she knew it, she was wet all over. Her legs began to tremble as she rested her forehead on the cool glass.
“I’ll show you who you belong to,” he grunted as he came up for air. The pressure on her low back increased as he pressed her fully into the glass. He unwrapped his arm around her, then threaded that same hand between her thighs. He pushed his thumb into her pussy, hooking it slightly to rest on her g-spot. Then all four fingers started to work against her clit in urgent, demanding circles.
He played her body like an instrument, his thumb making her insides clench in anticipation while his fingers coaxed mounting pleasure she could already feel in her toes. He used his entire hand to work her over, cupping and squeezing and demanding her pleasure. Every time he stroked his thumb inside, he also pressed into her clit. The sensations blended in harmony, creating the most satisfying warmth that radiated into her limbs.
She could hear herself crying out. She could feel her thighs clenching on his hand. Everything was a hazy, beautiful blur as she fell apart. The intensity of the sensations that rolled through her was unlike anything she had experienced in months. It was the first blended orgasm she’d had since her surgery.
