My heart fluttered.
“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day, baby.”
Ryder smiled. “I’m excited about it. I can’t wait to take care of you.”
“Honey.” I frowned. “You do take care of me.”
“You pay our bills, Branna.”
I chuckled. “It’s not the 1940s. Women are capable of workin’ and supportin’ their families.”
Ryder snorted. “I know that, and I love you for it, but I’m a provider. It makes me feel less than a man when I can’t pay our bills, buy our groceries, or get you flowers whenever I want, but it’s going to change. Soon. I promise.”
“I trust you,” I said. “With me life.”
Ryder smiled and continued to prepare our dinner.
“And FYI, if you’re goin’ to buy me somethin’, make it chocolates instead of flowers.”
My husband joyfully laughed. “Noted.”
Ryder’s laughter, his plans for the future, and his love for me pushed back my nagging thoughts and focused my mind on the now. This was what my happiness was all about. He made everything better. No matter how bad things got I knew when I looked at my side, I would find him there.
When I awoke on the tenth morning of our honeymoon, I found myself wishing we had just arrived. I couldn’t wait to see my family when we returned home, but this private time away with Ryder had done us a world of good. I was more in love with him than ever before, and to be honest, I didn’t think I had ever had as many orgasms in my life. If I hadn’t known Ryder was a selfless lover before were arrived at our little cabin, I damn well knew after our sex marathon.
A marathon that I was still in the running for.
I felt bad that Ryder was catering to me and making me feel on top of the world during most of the time we had sex. Blow jobs were pretty much out of the question in my current state of pregnancy, which sucked—no pun intended. Whenever I gave him one, my breathing would labour, and I’d develop a stitch in my side that would halt sexy time until it passed. He said it didn’t matter, but it did to me. I hated being limited to what I could do to pleasure him. I dreaded to think how much of a sex vegetable I’d become further along into my pregnancy.
I shivered with fright as that was definitely not something I was looking forward to.
A snap, crackle, and pop drew my attention to the right of the room. I lifted my head and smiled when I saw the fireplace was alive and dancing with flames. Ryder must have awoken during the early hours of the morning and repacked the fire with logs. I was greatly appreciative of it, having learned a few days ago what it felt like to wake up to a freezing cold room. I rested my head back against my pillow, smiling as waves of heat floated over the bed. I was the most comfortable and content that I had been in a long time, and when I looked to my left, it became concrete in my mind that this moment—this feeling—I experienced when I looked at my husband would be forever planted in my memory.
I loved him more than a person could love another, and I knew how lucky I was to have him.
I turned onto my left side, and for a few minutes, I watched him sleep. I smiled every so often when his snoring would disturb his sleep, and he pulled a funny face until he settled back into his slumber. When I was sure he wasn’t going to wake up, I lifted my hand to his face and traced his defined jawline with my fingertips. I slid my fingers down his neck and onto his chest where I played with the hair my fingers skimmed over. His torso was exposed, but a blanket covered his lower half. I traced his abdominal muscles and noted only four of them were defined where there used to be six.
Ryder had commented on his loss of muscle and added lines to his face when I discovered my stretch marks when we first arrived at the cabin. I felt horrible about them, and I worried Ryder would view me as I viewed myself. When I expressed that, he expressed how different he looked since we first met and listed the changes in his body. I realised then that the slight changes in his body never affected how much I loved him. He was still incredibly sexy and had the best body I’d ever seen. I knew his younger brothers were ripped and defined beyond anything, but I couldn’t explain it. When I thought of the perfect body—the perfect man—I saw Ryder.
No one could compare to him, and no one ever would.