Reconciled for Easter (16 page)

Thomas didn’t say anything when they were in the hall alone together. He gave his head a little shake and headed for the kitchen.

Abigail followed him.

She wanted to demand he tell her what exactly had happened, but she restrained the instinct. Instead, she poured them both a glass of water and watched as Thomas gulped his down.

After a few minutes, Thomas began, “It…it was…”

Abigail waited, feeling breathless, so concerned.

“It was a girl. Mia’s age.”

“Oh, no,” she murmured, moving toward him and pressing herself against him. “Oh, Thomas, no.”

“I thought I could…I did everything I could.”

“I know you did. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do. I know that doesn’t make it easier, but it’s true.”

Thomas’s arms wrapped around her, as tightly as he’d been holding Mia earlier. He felt hard and strong and human—and needy somehow.

Like he needed her. Desperately.

And she wanted him to need her that way. She needed for him to need her.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said at last. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“I’m not ready yet,” he mumbled against her hair.

“But you’re dead on your feet, Thomas. Please.” She pulled away enough to look at his face, and realized why he was so reluctant. So she said, “I’ll stay with you. I’ll come to bed with you.”

His expression broke in an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I want to come to bed with you.”

Getting ready for bed wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, as Abigail might have supposed.

The master suite in Thomas’s big old house was set up exactly as their bedroom had been when they were together. The pile of books on the nightstand on Thomas’s side of the bed was there, just as it had always been. Different titles but stacked in a familiar order—paperbacks set on top of hardbound, fiction separated from medical-related reading. And there was the same engraved tray on the dresser, where Thomas had always put his watch and wedding ring at night.

After he changed into the flannel pajama pants he’d always worn, Thomas went to check that the house was locked up, Abigail stood in the middle of the bedroom and felt like she’d never left.

As her eyes flickered over the tray on the dresser, she noticed a glimpse of gold. Without thinking, she walked over and stared down at what she’d seen.

Thomas’s wedding ring, exactly where he’d always set it.

He still wore it. He’d never stopped wearing it, although she hadn’t been wearing hers, since until recently it had felt like a lie.

Thomas returned then, looking a little more like his normal self. “I got you a toothbrush,” he said, handing her an unopened package. “And I guess you can sleep in something of mine, if you want.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him almost shyly and took the toothbrush. Then she opened a drawer and found one of his t-shirt to wear to bed. She’d known exactly where to find his shirts.

She went into the bathroom and changed clothes. Then she washed up using Thomas’s soap and toothpaste.

When she came back, she didn’t know what to say, so she just crawled into her side of the bed. She wished there was something she could really do to help him through this day.

He used the bathroom himself and then turned off the light as he got into bed.

“Abigail,” he said, rolling toward her.

For some reason, the one word caused a lump of emotion to catch in her throat. With a little sound, she scooted toward him and exhaled shakily when he took her in his arms.

“Abigail,” he murmured again, holding her tightly against him, stroking her back and her hair with one hand. “Baby. Thank you for being here.”

She hugged him back as hard as she could in her position, hating the tension and angst she could feel in his body and wishing she could somehow soothe it away.

When they’d been together before, she’d never really believed he’d needed her. Not like this. Not in the ways that really mattered.

***

When Abigail woke up, it was still dark in the room, but it must have been early morning. It felt like she’d been asleep for hours.

She was still snuggled up against Thomas, and his arms were still wrapped around her. She shifted a little, but his arms didn’t loosen. She tried to raise her head to look at the clock, but Thomas mumbled something under his breath and gathered her against him even more tightly.

She gave up on the clock. It was Sunday, and it didn’t matter what time it was. Sunday School didn’t start until ten.

Relaxing against him, she let one of her hands run down his spine, then up again until she could caress his head. It felt natural, completely inevitable. She’d always loved the feel of the ridges of his backbone and the tight skin and little bumps of his skull through his hair. She didn’t see any reason not to feel it now.

Thomas’s body was as hot as a radiator—he seemed to be pulsing with heat. But he was completely relaxed, except for the tight embrace of his arms and the hardness of a morning erection. As she trailed her fingers down his back again, she discovered his pajama pants were riding low on his hips.

She slid her hand to his side and squeezed the firm flesh at his waist, rubbing herself unconsciously against his hard arousal.

He’d been asleep when she woke up—she was certain of it. But sometime in the midst of her caresses he awoke. She wasn’t sure of the exact moment, but she became vaguely aware of a tightening in his body. Then his head tilted, and he buried his face in her hair, nuzzling his way down to the crook of her neck.

Abigail’s body had already begun to respond to the feel of him against her. And as he mouthed the sensitive skin of her throat, sucking lightly at her pulse point, she moaned in naked pleasure.

Thomas hummed against her skin and adjusted slightly, gently pushing her from her side to her back. His hands slid under the oversized t-shirt she wore, and he stroked the bare skin of her belly until he’d reached and cupped her breasts. As he fondled her, he kissed his way to her face.

Flooded with warmth and sensual pleasure, Abigail arched up into his hands and eagerly took his head between her palms. She pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, her tongue tangling with his in an attempt to feel him more deeply.

They both moaned as the kiss became more urgent. She rocked her pelvis up against his, finding and pushing into his erection. She was fully aroused now, flushed and hot and wet. So she exhaled in relief when Thomas tore his mouth away so he could concentrate on pulling her panties down over her hips and legs.

She kicked her underwear away and yanked down Thomas’s pajama pants, reaching for his erection as soon as it was freed. They were still under the covers as Thomas pushed her thighs apart and lined himself up at her entrance.

She lifted her hips to meet his first thrust, releasing a silly mew as she felt his hard flesh push in.

Thomas made a thick sound of pleasure and pressed his face against her neck, his hips working in small, unconscious pumps even as he tried to even out his breathing.

Abigail hugged him close, holding the back of his head with both hands. The penetration was tight but deeply pleasurable, and Thomas’s instinctive motion sent jolts of sensation rippling out.

After a minute, she started to squirm, and she lowered her hands to clutch his ass, her fingers digging into the tight muscles there. In response to her silent urging, Thomas reared up on straightened arms and began to thrust, staring down at her with deep, intense eyes.

Abigail moved with him, their rhythm fast, hot, and needy. Her legs were bent up high around his hips, and she used the leverage from her feet on the mattress to ride him from below.

They were both panting loudly, and the bed shook with their urgent motion. And it wasn’t long before the pressure of an orgasm coalesced inside her.

She gasped, tossing her head on the bed as she writhed beneath him. “Oh—!”

Her exclamation broke off as she came hard, clamping down around Thomas’s thrusting.

His face twisted. “Yes, baby.” The words were choked as he jerked with a few clumsy pumps. Then the tension broke inside him as well.

She moaned, low and long, as her body was washed in pleasure, and she felt Thomas come in spurts inside her. He released a thick exhale as he collapsed on top of her, his weight hot and substantial.

They clung to each other, gasping and letting their bodies relax. After a minute, she felt a gush of moisture between her legs, but she was barely conscious of it. Thomas had softened some, and his weight wasn’t yet uncomfortable. It all seemed perfectly natural. Inevitable. Finding each other upon waking.

She felt safe. And deeply satisfied.

She might have dozed off for a few minutes—the whole experience blurred into a warm, sated haze. But the next thing she was distinctly conscious of was Thomas hardening inside her again. She felt him twitch and grow, filling and stretching her inner walls once more.

Humming with unexpected pleasure, Abigail sighed and stroked her way down to his butt.

“You awake, baby?” Thomas’s low voice was right at her ear, and he readjusted one of his arms so he could caress her hair back from her face.

“Mm hmm.” She squeezed the firm flesh of his butt encouragingly, hoping to get him to move again.

He rocked into her gently, taking most of his weight onto his arms as he raised his upper body above her.

“Yeah,” she breathed, stretching sensually and tightening her fingers on his ass, using her grip to guide his motion to the rhythm she wanted.

It hadn’t been long since her previous orgasm, but she wanted another one. Her body was primed and eager, and her hips were already shamelessly moving.

Thomas kept his rhythm steady, slower than before. His eyes never left her face, and she couldn’t seem to look away either. Because of his earlier release, he was more controlled this time. His skin was slightly damp with perspiration, and the muscles of his arms and neck were clenched with a primal sort of tension. But his rhythm didn’t falter as they moved together under the covers.

Thomas rocked into her until she came. Then he lifted her thighs so she would wrap her legs around his waist.

Eventually, Abigail was drenched with sweat and gasping desperately, but her hips still pumped up against Thomas’s eagerly. The only sounds in the room were the jiggling of the bed, the faint slapping of their bodies together, and the mingled texture of their breathing. But, as Thomas accelerated his rhythm, working inside her more urgently, she started to make little sobbing sounds as she built up toward another orgasm.

Thomas was finally reaching the edge of his control, and the obvious strain on his face and in his clenched body pushed Abigail even closer to release. She loved the way he made her feel, but she loved even more when he revealed how much she pleased him, how much he wanted her, needed her.

“Abigail,” Thomas rasped, falling out of rhythm as his head jerked to the side. “Baby.”

Abigail arched up, crying out as spasms of pleasure sliced through her. Then she clawed at his ass when he froze inside her, his body clenched as tight as a fist.

“Thomas!” she gasped, not quite sure why she was saying his name, just feeling like she wanted to say it.

He let out a thick, rough groan as he jerked his hips helplessly against hers. His face flooded with a rush of intense pleasure. He pulsed inside her as he came, and then he collapsed on top of her like before.

Abigail was exhausted, completely wiped out and a little sore. But she felt wonderfully sated and like it was perfectly natural for her lie under the covers on a Sunday morning with a hot, relaxed, panting Thomas between her legs.

After a few minutes, however, she shifted beneath him. She wasn’t in danger of falling asleep again, and she was starting to recognize the significance of the gush of fluids between her thighs.

Plus, her legs were losing circulation.

Thomas rolled over, freeing her of his weight. But he stayed on his side next to her, one of his hands stroking her red face.

“Okay?” he asked, his green eyes watchful, even as they reflected deep satisfaction.

“Yeah.” Her voice came out as a croak, so she cleared her throat. “I think I must have been half-asleep just now.”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You appeared to be awake.”

Realizing how he’d read her words, she clarified. “I didn’t mean I didn’t want to...to do that. I did. Of course I did. But we should have used a condom.”

He visibly released a breath. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about it.”

“Me either. But...” She trailed off.

“But what?”

“I’m healthy, of course. I’ve never had sex with anyone but you.”

“I’ve never had sex with anyone but you either.” His voice and expression were both utterly seriously, as if he was waiting for some sort of boom to fall.

They’d both been virgins when they got married—raised in Christian homes, saving themselves for marriage. It had seemed normal to her back then, but it hit her anew in that moment, and she realized how unusual it was, how special it felt to her now.

That his body had always been for her alone.

“What are you afraid of, baby?”

“I’m not on birth control.”

Thomas was silent. When she dared to dart a look over at his face, she saw that his expression was mild and thoughtful. “I’m all right with whatever happens.”

Abigail hadn’t been nervous all night, everything feeling so perfectly natural, but now her heart started to hammer. “We can’t have another baby, Thomas.”

“Why not?”

“Thomas. We’re not…fixed.”

“Not yet. But you know how I feel about that.”

Abigail couldn’t stand the composure on his face, any more than she could stand the flicker of tenderness she saw in his eyes. He meant it.”

She sighed and rolled over. “Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry I’m still hesitating. I’m just still afraid of moving too fast.”

Thomas rolled over too, adjusting them until he was spooning her from behind. “I know you’re worried. I understand why. I wasn’t assuming that this, just now, meant that everything was fixed.” He stroked her belly softly, under his t-shirt she still wore. “I think things are getting better, though.”

“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting herself enjoy that reality. She probably wasn’t pregnant. Given the time of the month, it was highly unlikely. And so this would be just another good step forward.

They didn’t speak any further, but their breathing fell into sync, and he kept gently stroking her belly under the t-shirt.