I let out a breath. “No way.”
“I looked it up and that was the comparison they gave me. Even though it feels like the universe is conspiring against us, sometimes I think the universe is talking to us. Sending us a message. I don’t know…” I swallowed as his grip on my stomach spanned wide, strong. “She’s probably bigger now, actually. I checked a while ago, and you’re…”
“Bigger,” I said.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Even though she’s bigger than a lemon, I want to think of her that way. We don’t have a name for her, anyway…our little Meyer lemon.”
He was iron against my ass and I wanted him like fucking air. I ground against him mindlessly but he held on to my hip, holding me still.
“Please,” I whimpered. “I used to look in the mirror and see you everywhere. But now… My bruises have faded.”
“You want bruises? Here?” His thumb traced my hip and I whimpered. “Or here?” I groaned as he trailed his touch down to my inner thigh.
Yes. I wanted that. Everywhere.
“What happened the last time I bit you?” he growled.
West. The bite was still fresh.
He slid his hand from my stomach and yanked my head back, so my eyes met his. “Don’t be so fucking reckless, little wife.”
“What about here?” I lifted my ring finger, where his bite had long since left me. “Who will know what it means? I can say I slammed it in the door or something. It could be another secret we have.”
From the world.
From everyone.
He groaned. “Fucking trouble.” But then he slid my finger into his mouth.
Slow.
His tongue swirling around the digit, eyes burning on me and palm digging harder into my stomach. Heating up my lungs until l had to part my lips to let go of the steam.
Then he bit.
I arched and he bruised his fingers into my inner thigh, holding me in place, his cock throbbing against my ass. His fingers inched higher, into the soft skin creasing my groin.
On the edge—like me.
“More,” I begged.
He released my finger, wet, red, and throbbing. He licked the newly formed indentations, blue eyes never straying from mine.
“Please. You can bruise me in other ways…” I whispered. “You can bruise me inside. Where only I can feel it.”
“Little wife…” He groaned deep—a surrender. “Tell me to stop.”
Of course I couldn’t tell him no.
I could never tell him.
But fear and worry rolled through me in waves.
Who needs to die for you to realize this isn’t a game? That your kisses have consequences.
Someone had died, and still, all I wanted to do was melt into him. We were going up against Goliath and we’d always had one very obvious Achilles heel: each other.
I arched into him in answer.