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“I like sleeping in here with you.” Even though all they’d been doing was sleeping. Having him hold her was rewarding in itself, but Beatrice was experiencing needs she’d never expected to have.
His chin rubbed against the top of her head. “I like sleeping with you too. I just wanted it to be your choice.”
“And I’ve chosen. You never forced me into anything, Montrell. Well, besides the marriage.” His chest was so broad and warm when she rested her cheek against it. “And I’ve already thanked you for that.”
“Yes, you have.” His chuckle rumbled under her ear. “You’ve got a meeting soon. Can I help you get ready?”
He’d been helping her to get dressed while her arm healed. She did her own makeup, as putting it on was a morning ritual that settled her, but she’d been shocked by how gentle he was while he brushed out her hair. Even she got caught in the tangled knots, but Montrell’s hands were magic.
She sat on the bed in front of him, trying not to whimper as his fingers drifted through her hair. Her scalp tingled as he let the brush flow through her dark curls from top to bottom. Every part of her tingled. There was something both soothing and electrifying when he completed such an intimate task.
He finished pulling the brush through one last time. His arm came around her, pulling her back to snuggle against his chest as he dropped the brush to the bed beside them. “There. All done.” His arm looked so big resting next to her own on her stomach. “I’ll let you do all the talking with Barone, but I’d like to come along.”
“I want you there,” Beatrice admitted.
As they continued to sit together, everything feeling so simple, she licked her lips as something she’d been considering chased away the remaining tingles. “I—” She couldn’t say it after all. The timing was all wrong. She’d thought, since they weren’t currently having sex, that maybe it would be easier. Shame filled her instead, and she could no longer sit.
“You okay, Bea?” Montrell asked, his eyes following her.
“Fine. It’s just almost time to go.”
Montrell rose to his feet. He watched her for a moment, a frown pulling at his features. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” He sighed. “Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings. If you’re worried my presence will undermine you, I’ll accept it. I still want to give you the world, Bea, and that means your needs come before my own.”
She moved toward him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek. “That’s not it. I didn’t lie about wanting you with me at the meeting.” She scowled up at him. “And your needs matter too. I want us to be there for each other equally.”
His face settled into the stubborn look both Giulia and Vespa had warned her about. “I like to give to you.”
She kissed him as she laughed. Never in the world would she have considered the biggest argument with her husband would be who got to be sweeter to the other.
Montrell paused at their bedroom door. He loved that she’d moved in without asking, and he was glad that she and Giulia had wrangled the boys into helping that morning. The scratches on her face and arms were healing, and the doctor had said most of them shouldn’t scar. Beatrice had told him she didn’t want to look into any cosmetic surgeries. She’d gained confidence in showing her body to him.
It had taken all his self-control to not reach for her in the last week. She was still healing—that was the main reason he refrained. But he also knew they needed to talk. She was sleeping with him every night. He loved that she was, but it made instigating a bit more of a gray area. When she’d come to his room, he’d taken that as enthusiastic consent. Now he didn’t have such a clear sign.
Beatrice loved him. Hearing her words in his mind—he had so many overlapping memories of her saying it to replay—sent a shiver through his body. She loved him in a way that rivaled his own love, and he was a little worried she’d give in physically with the thought of pleasing him and not for her own pleasure.
He needed it to only be out of her body’s need and not out of any misguided thoughts about making him happy. Holding her made him happy enough.
He rested his forehead against the door. A muffled little gasp reached him from behind the wood, and his eyes flashed open as he reached for the handle.
Beatrice’s eyes were squeezed shut as she lay on top of the covers, completely naked except for her cast. Her legs were spread open wide, and there was a flash of pink in her good hand as she pressed the vibrator there.
Montrell watched her hips lift into the increasing rise of the vibration. She let out a frustrated moan as they lay flat during the lull. She’d picked the teasing mode. And fuck, she looked close to orgasming.
He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. She still heard it. The most adorable pink flush coated her cheeks and down her chest toward her breasts when she opened her eyes to see him there.
The vibrator dropped to the covers. Her hand moved to her face instead, covering her eyes. “I-I’m sorry!” she blurted out.
Montrell’s smile faded as he crossed to the bed. He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her face. “Don’t you be sorry. I’m so fucking happy.”
She blinked up at him. “You are? But don’t you—” She swallowed. “I mean, wouldn’t you want—”
He wanted the hell out of her. Watching her with the vibrator made him harder than ever. Telling her might make her stop, though. “Why did you bring out the toy, Bea?”
She licked her lips. “Well, I was feeling—” She swallowed again, looking away. “My body wanted—”
She wasn’t able to say it. That was fine. He’d say it for her. His lips parted.
Beatrice closed her eyes and shouted, “I was horny, okay!” Her pink flush turned even redder.
