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Odin grins. “Yes, Doc.”
Then I dive in and make my husband come.
37
Odin
‘Labyrinth’ - Taylor Swift
Wrinkled sheets. Tangled legs. Sweaty skin cooling in the morning sunlight. Messy hair. Glazed eyes. Humming in the shower. Eating slowly, savoring the taste. Experiencing it again on another person’s lips. Thrusting bodies. Deep sighs. Smiles so wide it hurts. Kisses so soft it could jumpstart a dead heart. Sipping wine. Watching sunsets. Holding hands in private. Flowing conversation with comfortable silences. Pure laughter. Making plans. Dreaming and living. Dreaming and living. Whispers in the heart of the night. Saying each other’s names just for the sake of it. Tiny arguments. Passionate embraces. Falling, stumbling, careening, head over heels in fucking love.
Damn.
I’ve missed this.
“Bend me over the table.”
“Hold me up against the wall.”
“The floor. I want to do it on the floor.”
“Not the pool. Water does not make things more wet. If anything, it’s the devil’s sand when it comes to sex.”
Etta is insatiable. As a matter of fact, so am I.
This honeymoon is nothingbutsex, food, napping, and watching Twilight. We start the third one tonight. I am not looking forward to it.
“Bullshit,” Etta shouts, as we sip a glass of rosé, watching the sunset crest over the Mediterranean Sea. “You were nervous when Edward was about to step into the sun in Rome.”
“I was terrified,” I admit and sip my drink. Etta laughs, and the sound fills all the gaps and crevices in my soul I thought would forever be empty.
She’s wearing one of my shirts, her bare legs tucked up against her chest, her hair curled from all the pool water and my hands constantly pulling at it. We fucked not even an hour ago and I want her again. I don’t think I’ll ever not want her.
“I’m so full,” she moans, rubbing her slightly swollen belly after eating every single Greek delicacy we ordered for dinner that wasn’t seafood related. The way she sighs and tips her head back to rest against the chair stirs my lower body. Testing my resolve. She’s sexy even when she isn’t trying to be.
As Etta watches the horizon, I watch her. Every sunset I’ve seen in every country doesn’t compare to her beauty. This monumental display of nature, included.
My wife feels my attention on the side of her face. She turns and looks at me. “Why aren’t you watching the sunset?”
“Because my view is better,” I reply. Etta’s lips part as she sucks in a sharp breath. Her blue eyes turn glassy, lined with water. She doesn’t let the tears shed, but I imagine she’s feeling a lot.
I’m feeling it too.
Every hour since we’ve been here, I’ve been thinking. About my life, about my future, about what it is that I want to be. Things that have never been given the light of day for a long, long time. Not unless it had to do with retribution and taking control. Things that make the world so much better and so much scarier at the same time. Things I might lose if everything goes to shit.
And I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t know if I can lose another wife.
Thankfully, I’m saved from overthinking when there’s a knock at the front door. Etta shoots me a confused glance. This house is privately owned, not a hotel. If anyone is here, it’s not because I asked them to be. “Stay here,” I say to her, anxiety slithering around in my belly as I grab a gun from the bedside table and head for the door.
As I near it, my phone vibrates with an incoming text. I shouldn’t get distracted. But something about the timing seems coincidental. I read it with the gun still loaded and aimed.
Dom:It’s just a gift from Ford and me.
Ford:Use them all. I want details.
Ford:Hope you’re both alive.
Dom:I put my foot down at organizing funerals.
