I rolled over in bed, instinctively reaching out for warm skin. I found it and smiled, my eyes still closed. No matter how long we’d been married, or how many times I woke up beside the man I loved with all my heart, I never tired of feeling him there, beside me, every morning.

I never would.

If we’d learned anything from the tragedy that struck our little family a couple of years ago and almost tore it apart, it was that life was too short to take anything for granted. There were no guarantees. Nothing was a given. Not even waking up next to the man you loved.

Not even waking up at all.

The second I touched his skin, he stirred, his eyes slowly opening. Reaching up, he rubbed his face, skimming over his chiseled jawline and scruffy skin that I love so much. By the time he lowered his hands and finished yawning, his bright blue eyes were on me.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he murmured.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“Where’s…?” He glanced around the room, his eyes going wide. “Wait. Did we actually wake up before Susan and Cory?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, then,” he rolled on top of me, cradling his weight on his elbows, but letting his lower half touch mine—and oh, what a lower half it was. “I’m not one to lose an opportunity like that…”

Oh, that’s something I knew very well.

Just like I knew him.

We’d enjoyed almost eleven years of marriage and two children. A relationship that started with him secretly guarding me in college, and then me falling in love with him before finding out he’d been lying to me the whole time. Injuries, PTSD, breakups, and gunshots.

So much had happened between us, yet feeling him in between my thighs was as electrifying as the first time he’d laid there.

Perhaps even more so.

His mouth kissed a trail down my neck, wasting no time with sweet kisses or foreplay. When you had an almost eight-year-old and a baby who could wake up any second now, there wasn’t time for hesitation or sweetness. You took what you got when you got it.

As often as you could get it.

His fingers skimmed up my thighs, lifting my nightgown as they shifted inward, and leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he bit down on my shoulder just the way I like it. When he touched my core, I gasped and spread my thighs more, letting him have full access to my body.

I was all his.

Forever and always.

He cupped my butt and slid under the covers, disappearing. Within seconds, his mouth was on me, and I was burying my fingers in his hair and holding on for dear life because he was about to take me on a ride I’d never forget. I never would.

His tongue rolled over me, stroking me with the perfect amount of pressure to make my heart race, and my legs turn to jelly. I rocked my hips against his mouth, losing myself in him. He held onto me, making sure I didn’t go too far as he stroked harder, faster. His fingers teased my entrance, and I came, stars bursting in front of me in beautiful multitudes of red.

He climbed up my body under the covers, dropping love bites the whole way. When he settled over me, he cupped my face, kissed me gently, and then thrust inside me with one hard, full stroke. The contrast of that motion with his soft lips on mine, barely touching me, was enough to make me quiver with need. He buried his face in my neck, moving inside me with sharp, hard movements, each stroke taking me higher and higher until I was gasping his name and scraping my nails down his back.

“I love you, Ginger,” he whispered, angling his hips a little more as he drove me to the finish line with a finesse he’d never lost, and only ever improved on.

I tried to tell him I loved him, too, but I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. I gasped, arching my back, closing my eyes as the pleasure took over me, bringing me higher and higher until I was sure I could fly. Finn was right there with me, soaring through the skies as he came, too, my name on his lips like a prayer. We clung to one another as we came down, neither one wanting to be the first to let go. After a few minutes, our hearts calmed, and our breathing evened.

For a minute, I thought maybe he’d fallen back asleep, but then he lifted his head and grinned down at me with the cockiest grin I’d ever seen, which was saying a lot when it came to Finn. “That was one hell of a wakeup.”

“Yeah, it was,” I said lazily. “But we should get moving soon. She’ll be in here any minute now.”

“Don’t worry, I locked the door last night,” he whispered, nibbling on my neck. “We’ll have a warning.”

As if on cue, the door handle jiggled.

He groaned dramatically and dropped his head on the pillow next to mine.

I giggled.

“Daddy?” Susan called.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

"Six more days until Christmas!" she cried, jiggling the handle. "Let me in."

“Daddy’s getting dressed,” he called out.

"I'm hungry," she said, her pouting about the lock out situation clear even through the door that separated us. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, go on down. I’ll be right there, and we’ll start cooking.”

It was Saturday morning, which meant Susan and Finn would be making pancakes, sugared strawberries, and homemade whipped cream. There would be coffee for us, and Susan would have hot chocolate with cinnamon in it. She loved that, especially this time of year, with Christmas so close.

“Hurry up, Daddy!” she called.

Her footsteps retreated, and Finn lifted his head again. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah, it does,” I said, smiling. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. I’m hungry after that wakeup.”

He grinned. “Me, too.”

With a quick kiss, he pushed off me and headed for our bathroom, barefoot and naked. I enjoyed the view, in no rush to get up. Finn was cooking, so that meant I got to take it easy.

Saturdays were my favorite day of the week.

After a few minutes, he came out, wearing boxers and holding his phone. “Weird.”

“What?” I asked, half asleep again.

“Your dad called me.”

I frowned. It was still early, only seven. “Did you call him back?”

“Not yet,” he said, setting his phone down and stepping into plaid pajama pants. “I will, though.” He headed for the door. “Go back to sleep if you want. I’ll get Cory if he wakes up, and I’ll send Susan to get you when breakfast is ready.”

I burrowed into the pillows. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” he said with a smile, closing the door behind him.

Yep. Saturdays were definitely my favorite.