Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (16 page)

I blushed, smiling shyly. “It’s the good kind of sore, Jude. I’ve been sore before.”

“You have?” he asked, an eyebrow lifting in surprise.

My eyes roamed over his still naked form. “Yes.”

“Why have you never said anything?” He tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the bathroom, where he’d just emerged from.

Condoms, with the immediate cleanup they required, always killed the post-sex bliss a bit.

I followed, not a bit ashamed that I was checking out his butt as we went. His round buttocks bounced. They were so tight that I could throw a quarter at them, and it would come back and hit me square in the eye.

I hadn’t been in the bathroom yet, and I tried not to gape as we entered. My mother’s entire apartment could fit in here—with room to spare.

Okay, maybe not quite, but it would be darn close.

Covered in gray-and-white marble, the shower looked big enough to fit an entire high school football team, and it had enough showerheads to cover each teammate from head to toe. I didn’t know exactly why one person would need all that room or showerheads, but I suddenly wanted to find out.

My head turned as we came to a stop in front of a huge porcelain tub. It reminded me of something from another era with its claw-foot bottom and ornate gold finish, but it had modern features, like jets and enough space for two.

Jude bent down and fiddled with the nozzles until he got the temperature to his liking. There were two bottles resting on a fancy towel. He held both out to me. “Which one?”

“Are you going to join me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Are you naked?” he replied in question, his eyes twinkling with humor.

I looked down at my lack of clothing, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips, and then I dragged my gaze back up to him.

I laughed briefly, shaking my head at his goofiness. I took a sniff at each bottle. I turned my nose up at the first—a musky rose scent. The second was more soothing—lavender and a bit of vanilla maybe. Jude dropped a small amount into the bath, and it quickly turned into frothy bubbles. I watched as he stepped in. With his back against the porcelain, he motioned for me to join him. Taking my time so that I wouldn’t slip, I placed my foot between his legs and descended into the hot water. My back was against his warm chest, and I felt his hands slowly dripping water down my arms and shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been sore before?” he asked softly as his head rested near my ear.

I took a deep breath. “Because I was afraid you’d pull back.”

“Pull back how?” He turned my head toward his.

“Tonight, the way you were, you’ve never been like that, Jude. And I know it’s because you’re afraid you’ll hurt me, that I’ll break somehow.”

His mouth opened to protest, but I continued, “Let me finish.”

He nodded against my cheek.

“I don’t blame you, and I don’t think less of you or feel dissatisfied. But sometimes, I see you holding back. And I don’t want that, Jude. I never want you to feel like you have to tread carefully around me—in the bedroom or anywhere else in our marriage. I want to be your equal—in everything. I’m not fragile anymore.”

“I know.”

“I know you do, so please stop treating me like I’m made of porcelain. I want all of you—the good, the bad, in sickness and health,” I said, quoting the traditional vows we’d decided to forgo but knew still applied.

“Even if it hurts you?” he asked, his hand slipping between my legs where I felt tender from the madness of consummation.

“Yes, especially then. Because those are the times we’ll need each other the most.”

“Can I ease it? The pain?” he asked, knowing we weren’t talking metaphors anymore.

“You can do that? How did you learn to do something like that?”

Why did I ask that?

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.

“You ask like it’s a superpower. It’s just an idea. I’m not sure it will work, but I thought we’d try.”

I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding my breath.

He chuckled a bit behind me.

“Was that a bit of jealousy I sensed?”

I shrugged, and he tilted my head upward to meet his green eyes.

“You are my one and only, Lailah. Never forget that.”

My eyes squeezed shut, trying to memorize the moment. I didn’t know how many times I’d done this over the past two years, silently trying to time-capsule a memory, a feeling, or an emotion I shared with this man. I didn’t want to forget anything.

“Put your legs up on the ledge,” he commanded, his voice suddenly deeper.

I loved when his voice dropped and became demanding. I followed his instruction, placing one foot on each side, like I was ready to birth a baby. It was an awkward position, but it pushed my back further into his chest, so it was strangely comfortable.

I felt him adjust, and the jets suddenly came to life around us, the water rumbling and bubbling with life.

“Now, we just need to move slightly until we get the right angle—”

“Holy—” I cried out as a jet came in contact with my core, spread wide and open.

“There we go,” he said, pleased with himself.

I had no words. I was reduced to a writhing puddle of gibberish. Every minor movement pushed the pressured water into my sensitive area. I could adjust, sending the most focused area directly where I wanted it. There was no friction, no touch. It was soothing, yet I was careening, sliding, and falling into another orgasm quicker than I could anticipate.

“I’m going to—oh my God,” I cried out.

“Let go,” Jude encouraged.

My head fell back as a powerful orgasm sent me over the edge. I saw stars as my body floated back to earth.

I curled back into his arms as my heart steadied. Looking up at him, I realized he’d had it all wrong.

He was the angel sent from heaven.

And I was the lucky one who got to sleep within his winged embrace.

I WAITED FOR as long as possible before waking her. The first rays of morning hadn’t even begun to break through the clouds, but I knew if we didn’t leave soon, we’d miss our flight. Not that I couldn’t reschedule, but I wanted her to be able to see our destination as we flew in, and that could only be done if we left well in advance.

I zipped the last of our luggage and dropped it by the door. Returning to the master suite, I knelt beside her slumbering figure on the bed. Her light-blonde hair fell around her face like straw. Tiny puffs of air moved in and out of her perfectly shaped lips.

Sometimes, when work got the best of me and I returned home later than I wished, I would see her like this—in bed, her hands curled around her face that held a look of serene peacefulness. I’d find myself unable to stir her, unwilling to break the calm cadence of her breath or the gentle ease of her slumber. I’d sit across from her, still fully dressed in my suit and tie, and just watch.

Like the peaceful tide rolling in on an ocean breeze, she was my steadfast tranquility in a world that sometimes seemed to be anything but. When days got hectic and the company seemed to take the life out of me, I knew I could return to her, and she’d right all the wrongs of my life.

Hating myself for having to disrupt her sleep, I carefully lifted a hand and gently stroked her face. She stirred slightly, reaching out to touch my hand in her slumber.

“Hey, angel,” I whispered.

She moved a bit more. Her eyes fluttered and finally opened, focusing on my features.

She smiled. “Hi,” she said hoarsely.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Her lids shut once more, squeezing tight, as she stretched under the covers. “We got married yesterday.” She smiled as her gaze returned to mine.

“Yes, we did.” I grinned from ear to ear. “And today, we’re leaving for our honeymoon.”

Her eyes widened in excitement. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

I laughed. “No.”

Her mouth turned upside down into a pout.

“But I’ll show you. Get dressed. I put your clothes there.” I pointed at the end of the bed. “And I left a toothbrush and your pills out for you.”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, before her hands went to her hair. A frown appeared on her face as she felt the massive rat’s nest that we’d managed to create while rolling around the sheets all night.

“Do I get to shower?”

“No. Sorry. But there’s a brush in the bathroom.”

She looked at me like I was insane.

With the crazy hair and sleepy eyes, it was kind of cute, and I tried to contain my chuckling.

“We’ll be late if we don’t hurry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise!” I exclaimed as a pillow sailed in my direction.

I didn’t bother covering up the deep laughter that followed as I watched her stomp, bare ass naked, into the bathroom.

“When you said we needed to hurry so that we wouldn’t miss our flight, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Lailah said. Her mouth nearly dropped to the floor of the stretched limo as we passed the regular airport completely and pulled into a private hangar.

“I didn’t say what kind of flight we were trying to make.”

“This is . . . I don’t even have words.” Her head whipped around as she took in the private plane we would soon be boarding.

“See? I told you I’d make it up to you,” I said, winking, as I reached for the handle to hop out.

She followed my lead, neither of us bothering to wait for the chauffeur.

“I figured that meant you’d buy me some dry shampoo and a sweatshirt at the airport between flights, not a freaking private plane. Wait . . . does this thing have a shower on it? Is that why you wanted me to skip it?” She walked beside me, grabbing my arm before linking our hands.

“Maybe.” I laughed.

Incoherent gibberish followed.

I couldn’t tell if she was excited or pissed. Maybe it was a little of both, but she kept a hold of me as we made our way toward the plane.

The presence of money in our relationship still scared the shit out of Lailah. Raised with very little, it was hard for her to see so much of it go to waste. But in my mind, she was priceless. It wasn’t about being frivolous or extravagant to me. We had the money, so if I could give her the best of something, why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t any man do that for the woman he loved?

Ready to greet us was our flight attendant, a young brunette who stood a bit straighter when her eyes met mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lailah reach up and smooth out her hair once again, obviously not happy with her early morning appearance.

I personally thought her hair looked spectacular, but then I was the one who had messed it up.

A sly grin tugged at my lips as visions of our wedding night flooded my brain until an elbow to the ribs brought me back to reality.

“Pervert.”

Laughing, I stopped steps away from where we’d board the plane and grabbed her hand. I kissed it, hoping to calm any nervousness she might have. A shy smile surfaced.

“You could have at least given me something better than sweats,” she teased, looking up at the flight attendant in her perfectly pressed uniform.

“You are stunning in anything, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Come on. We have places to go—”

“And things to do?” She smirked after finishing my sentence.

“Definitely things to do.”

“Race you to the top?” she challenged, a flirtatious grin appearing across her eager face.

As I began to reply, she was already running, racing up the stairs, before I had the chance to form a single word.

“Cheater!” I yelled.

I waved to the woman whose name tag said
Brie.

It reminded me of cheese, and suddenly, I was starving. I followed my bride up the steps and found her halted at the entrance.

“Have I ever mentioned my concern for your sanity?” she said, her eyes taking in the lavish furnishings and ample space.

“A few times, yes.”

“Okay, good. I might again before this flight is over.”

“Good to know.” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around her waist, and I pushed us forward into the room.

As she looked around, I took a seat. “Are you hungry?”

Her hands flew to her stomach, probably having the same realization as me. “Famished. Please tell me this thing is stocked with food.”