Page 47 of Tart
“Canoeing, kayaking, biking with the right kind of bike, and sex.”
My head snapped up, and there was laughter in his eyes when I punched him playfully. “Sorry, but you walked right into that one,” he said.
“More like limped into it,” I moaned, shaking my head. “It’s late, but I think I could use a drink. I can’t stop all these weird thoughts that keep running through my mind, which means I probably won’t sleep.”
“If they’re anything like the ones running through mine, I think a drink is in order. I’ll bring it in here. I bet you would like to relax without the brace on, right?”
“Like you don’t know. My knee is improving, but overall, it still sucks in the pain department.”
He stood and scooped me up out of the chair, carrying me to the bed while stealing a kiss from my lips.
“You shouldn’t carry me, Bishop. You’ll hurt yourself.”
He lowered me to the bed with a laugh. “Yes, your whole one hundred pounds is going to give me a hernia.”
“I’ll have you know it’s one hundred and nine.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, still laughing. “Let’s take the brace off and prop the knee up.”
Since I was wearing sleep shorts, it was easy for him to get to the Velcro, but I clasped my hand over his. “I’ll do it. You don’t have to do it.”
“I don’t mind,” he said patiently, stripping the Velcro off while I let my head fall back to the pillow slowly. He took my shoe off, and the brace stayed inside it when he set it next to the bed. “Better?” he asked, moving my shorts aside to check the skin. “It’s still red, baby,” he sighed, running his finger over it gently. “I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, I let my body sink into the soft, down mattress topper. The bed was easily a queen size, and much bigger than the one I had at my apartment. It was much easier to sink into, too. I was afraid I was going to like it too much by the time I moved back to my apartment. I decided tonight I’d enjoy a little bit of comfort for once in my life. Maybe I should enjoy Bishop, too. I wondered if what he said was true. That his soul had to see me again. It was a poignant thing to say, and my heart melted when he said it. I had to admit that I wanted to get to know him better, too. Even when I was in the middle of a terror episode during a storm, he calmed me. I hadn’t met anyone before who could do that.
He came back in the door carrying a tray full of drinks and other various bottles. He set it on the nightstand and held up the Tylenol. I nodded eagerly, and he dumped two in my hand. I swallowed them with the glass of water he brought, and then he handed me a bottle of cold hard lemonade. “Not a lot of kick, but I figured with the meds you’re taking, you didn’t want anything too strong. It will take the edge off. So will this.” He sat next to me and pushed my sleep shorts up higher, his fingers trailing the inside of my thigh and making me suck in air, a skitter of pleasure flowing through me at the sensation.
He unfurled something and rested it across my thigh and knee. It was cold and sent a shiver through me, but offered instant relief. I glanced down at it and then to his face. “What is it?”
He grabbed a bottle of lemonade and crawled over me, sitting on the other side of the bed. “It’s an ice blanket. I found it online and ordered it. I thought it might help the pain more if you could ice the whole thing down at once. When you’re not using it, you can roll it up and leave it in the freezer.”
“You thought to order me an ice pack?”
He motioned at it. “Did I overstep?”
I waved my hand and lowered my bottle from my lips. “Not at all, I’m just not used to other people wanting to take care of me. I know I live with my parents, but they’re pretty hands-off.”
He cocked his head and let his hand rest on the ice pack. “I know you’re a grown woman, but I want to offer you whatever comfort I can. I want to stay hands-off, but you make that hard. My hands want to be on you, taking care of you, holding you, comforting you.”
“Is that the dad in you or the teacher in you?” I asked, setting the empty bottle on the tray again.
“Neither,” he whispered, his bottle forgotten as he stroked my hip. “It’s the man in me. The other two parts of me offer experience in how to treat an injury, but it’s the man in me who wants to take your pain away and offer you comfort for a few moments each day, at least until we can make you more comfortable for longer stretches.”
I turned on my side halfway and tucked my hand behind his neck. “You’re so good at it that it scares me most of the time. I don’t want to admit how good you make me feel because then I have to explore what I’ve always believed about me, men, and my ability to make one happy.”
The look he gave me was enough to make my panties wet if I had been wearing any. “You explore all you want, but I will say that you make me happy without even trying. Catching a glimpse of you while I’m in the yard, you oblivious to me, makes my heart race with happiness.”
“Are you sure that’s not lust?” I asked, not even jokingly. “Mine does the same thing. I’m not kidding about the exploring part. I’m not super good at this stuff.”
His head shook slightly, and he slid his hand up the inside of my leg to cup my thigh carefully. “I know the difference between lust and happiness. Lust is when my dick hardens at nothing more than a look from you. That’s all it takes, just a look that says you’re thinking about the same thing I am, and I’m instantly hard. Happiness is the rest of the day.”
“The rest of the day?” I asked, confused.
“The times you cross my mind and my lips tip up in a smile. When I think about dinner, and want it to be with you. When I’m setting up a fire, hoping you’ll see it and come over so I can spend time with you again. When I lay down at night after we’ve been together and smile because I know when I wake up, I’ll have another chance to see you again.”
I nodded slowly, mostly because his hand on my leg was preventing me from thinking straight. “I see what you mean. I do the same thing, but I usually question and second guess every step of it until mostly the only thing I feel is scared.”
He frowned and leaned down, his lips almost touching mine. “Then, my first goal in this marriage is to teach you the difference between happiness and fear. Are you going to be a good student and do your homework?” he asked, holding my gaze.
