Page 53 of Honeyed

So much emotion and sexual frustration are packed into this kiss, and I need to feel him entirely on me rather than us lying on our sides. I roll over to straddle him, our cores connecting, and groan loudly when Warren rubs up into me.

“I need you so badly,” I admit.

My skin is sizzling, and only he owns the match to set it aflame. I want him to burn me, brand me, put an end to this purgatory, and fall fully into what we could really be.

Warren’s still silent when it comes to words, but his actions speak for everything the two of us are trying to overcome. Quickly, our clothes come off, fumbling hands pulling the fabric until we’re bare against each other. He flips me, rolling my nipples between his fingertips as I squirm below him.

“I’ve missed you.” He sighs, tracing a line with his tongue between the valley of my breasts.

“Why did you stay away?” I whisper, not sure if I want to know this answer.

A brown lock flops over his forehead, his eyes sparkling as the moon illuminates our figures. “I was giving you space. What I said the morning after we had sex … it was a lot to process. Those were secrets and emotions I’ve been holding on to for a long time, baby. I just … I need to know you’re in this with me, all the way. That we’re both not holding back or holding grudges anymore.”

Doesn’t he know I’d give any of those up if it means I get to be with him? I guess since we’d denied ourselves for this long, maybe he didn’t.

“I’m here. I’m yours,” I reassure both of us.

“This may have started out one way, but I promise you, Al, I’m in this. You’re my wife, I’m your husband. No more faking it. This is the real deal, this marriage is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Those three little words are on the tip of my tongue, but they feel too big to say right now. We may not be holding back, but part of me feels like I need to hang on to this last shred of self-preservation.

“Show me again. Please,” I beg him to make love to me like he did the other night.

Warren’s eyes heat to black, the gray vanishing with his lust. When he buries his tongue inside me, I gasp, thanking the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

We make love to each other slowly, our moans swallowed by kisses while our eyes never leave the others.

By the time we’re finished, our dinner sits outside the door on a warming tray. I guess Ralph took the hint. I think I’ll grow fond of him by the time we leave.

So I sit in bed naked with my husband, feeding him delicious clam chowder off my spoon as he spoons crab cake into my mouth, laughing about memories past and looking to the future of the two of us together.

21

WARREN

Four days of sand, sun, sex, and delicious food cooked by someone other than ourselves, and Alana and I might never return to Hope Crest.

We sit under an orange-and-white striped umbrella sipping strawberry margaritas with sugar on the rim, the ocean lapping at the shore of the private beach before us.

“I think I’ll give it all up and go live in a hut to experience this for the rest of my life.” She sighs, grabbing my hand across the space between our loungers.

“You’d have to move to Hollywood or Silicon Valley and make a shit ton of money to live this life.” I snort, although her dream does sound perfect if I get to watch her move around in a bikini all day.

Right now, she has this skimpy magenta one on that I want to untie with my teeth. But after delivering countless orgasms all over our bedroom, bathroom, and the kitchen, once the staff was asleep for the night, Alana made me swear to give her a break because of how sore she is.

The head of my dick aches with how much it’s been used, but that still doesn’t keep me from wanting to tackle her on the sand and see what sex on the beach would feel like.

“Fine, fine, I’ll return to my beloved little hometown. But this is a nice break. We should do this often.”

The way she speaks so easily about our future makes my heart bubble up out of my chest and float somewhere over us. Alana talks like it’s natural we’ll be going on vacation and exploring the world together as a married couple, something I’ve dreamed of for years but never thought in my wildest dreams would come true.

“Deal. Every year, we’ll pick somewhere new.” It’s a promise I intend to keep.

“Where should we go next year?” she muses.

“Wherever you want. I’ve always wanted to go to London. Or Paris. Maybe your Nonna’s hometown in Italy.” The Ashtons made many trips to their motherland over the years, but I have never gone with them.

Alana’s eyes fill with appreciation. “I’d love to take you there. Hmm, maybe I’ll have to change my passport to reflect my new last name.”

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