Georgie
“Again?” I mumbled, half asleep, when I felt Jameson’s roaming hands on my exhausted body.
“It’s our wedding night,” he purred in my ear.
I smiled at the thought. This was my wedding night. It was hard to believe that I would now refer to Jameson as my husband, and this night was even happening; months ago, I doubted we’d ever be married.
I turned to face him and draped my leg over his hip. I was still wet and ready after two previous rounds, so it was easy for him to fit the head of his cock at the center of my body and slide inside.
Jameson’s strong hands gripped my ass, holding me tightly while he moved in and out in a steady rhythm. He was taking his time with me; there was no need to rush when we had nowhere else to be but this house and this room. His lips grazed my ear, nipping at the flesh, before working their way down my neck to my collarbone, where he suckled the skin, no doubt leaving a mark.
My breathing became shallow and labored. I wouldn’t last long now, which was fine, because even though I wanted this connection, I also wanted to curl up in the comfort of Jameson’s embrace and sleep.
“Georgie,” Jameson said through gritted teeth. His pace quickened, and I knew he wouldn’t last long either. His stamina was amazing, but even Jameson had his limits.
He dragged his hand from my ass, over the curve of my hip, and down between our connected bodies. His fingers found my soaking wet core, and he gently strummed my clit, ensuring that my body would quickly implode.
“That’s it,” he growled. I began to pant and shake against him, and his fingers worked furiously. “I want it, Georgie. I want it back.”
I was confused by his words, but I couldn’t focus on them because I was literally bursting as my orgasm rocked me to the core. I threw my head back and screamed as Jameson buried himself so deeply and groaned loudly through his own release. He held my body against him until our hearts began to beat normally again and our breaths evened out.
“Jameson,” I whispered.
“Shh, little darling. Go to sleep now,” he commanded.
“No. What did you mean? What do you want back?”
Jameson sighed and rolled away slightly, our bodies separating. His hands moved across me until they rested against my stomach. His thumbs brushed my skin gently.
“We had a child,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, thick with emotion. “We made a child together and lost it. I want it back. I want another chance, Georgie.”
I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped my lips. I worried so often that when I told him about my pregnancy, he didn’t want to be a father; that he didn’t want the distraction of a child. And then that pregnancy ended, and we never really spoke of it. Until now.
“Are you sure?” I asked finally.
“I wasn’t at first. When you told me that you were pregnant, it didn’t seem like the right time. And then you had a miscarriage, and it seemed like the universe was telling us it wasn’t meant to be. But everything’s different now. I’m ready to have a family with you.”
I brushed my hand along his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble of his beard against my palm. “I want that too,” I confessed, telling him what I had secretly desired since that moment in Finland. “It will happen.”
Jameson nodded, and then we dozed, falling to sleep comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms.
The sun was blinding as it streamed through the large picture window, affording anyone who slept in the master bedroom a gorgeous view of the rocky coastline. My first thought was I needed to get curtains on that window. ASAP. I stretched my deliciously used body and turned to face my husband but found an empty bed. I sat up and pulled the loose, top sheet around my body, tucking and tying it as best as I could. I had no idea where my luggage was, or if I even had any.
I ventured out into the hallway, and immediately, I smelled coffee. I followed the heavenly scent downstairs to an open and airy kitchen that also had an amazing view of the coastline. And an equally impressive view of my husband, who was leaning against the porcelain farmhouse sink, his arms spread wide across it.
“This house has some pretty awesome views,” I said, coming into the kitchen fully.
Jameson turned and laughed at my outrageous covering. “What are you wearing?”
“I didn’t know where my clothes were,” I said, frowning.
“They’re in the closet,” he informed me. I felt silly; I should have known to look there. This was our house, after all. “But I like this much better.”
He approached me slowly and deftly undid the knot at my waist, freeing the bunched fabric. Then he loosened the fabric tucked around my chest, and the whole contraption fell to the floor, leaving me exposed. Jameson grabbed me around the waist and lifted me onto the gold stone countertop. I yelped in surprise at the freezing sensation against my bare flesh. Jameson leaned forward, kissed me firmly on the lips, and then pulled away with a grin.
“Good morning, Mrs. Martin.”
I squealed with delight. I loved the sound of that. “Good morning, Mr. Martin.”
Jameson held up a finger. “It’s President Martin.”
I swatted him playfully in the chest. “What’s for breakfast, President Martin?”
“Cake,” he announced matter-of-factly. He walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out a pink pastry box, which he proudly displayed. “We didn’t eat our wedding cake last night.”
There was no dining room table, so we ate in the kitchen. I sat on the countertop, wrapped in my sheet, and Jameson sat next to me. It was the most heavenly cake ever with layers of light, mocha-flavored cream between fluffy layers of vanilla cake.
“I have something else to tell you,” Jameson said, setting his fork down next to mine on the counter.
“What?” I had no idea what else he could possibly tell me after yesterday’s day full of surprises.
“I’m not running again.”
We had this conversation in the hospital in Finland. He announced he didn’t want to run again, and I told him to wait and to not make such a hasty decision. We had been back in the States for months, and like the pregnancy, we hadn’t spoken about it.
“Are you sure?”
Jameson nodded. “I’ve already spoken to Elias about it. He’s planning another run as an Independent.”
“Elias? Have you talked to DeWayne or Sean about it?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t know what to say to them without letting them down.”
“Just be honest, Jameson. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t see how they can be angry.”
“Because they’ve made sacrifices too. They gave up their lives for my dream, just like you did.”
“I didn’t give up my life, Jameson. I found my life.”
He gasped in surprise. I grabbed his hand, the one that bore the symbol of our promises to each other, and kissed his ring finger, just as he had done so many times with me.
“You gave me back my life, Jameson. What did I sacrifice for you? Misery? Loneliness? A career that really wasn’t going anywhere?”
He sighed in frustration and dropped his head. I placed a firm finger under his chin and tilted it back up to look into the arctic blue of his eyes. “They’ll understand,” I told him.
“I’m lucky that you’re my wife,” he finally said. “I’d hate to see what you’d do to any other man.”
I smirked and then hopped off the counter. “Let’s shower and get dressed. And then you can show me around this magnificent home that you bought for us.”