Page 45

CHAPTER 44

H e was going to die of fucking boredom, Tristan thought as he lay there, mentally preparing himself for another long fucking night of staring at the ceiling.

He honestly wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

For the past two weeks, he’d been stuck in this bed with absolutely nothing to do but glare at the ceiling during the day and at night…

“I can feel you glaring,” came the sleepily murmured announcement that had his lips twitching.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Tristan said, turning his head to find his incredibly beautiful wife rolling onto her side so that she was facing him.

“So are you,” Marty pointed out as she reached over and gently traced his jaw with her fingertips.

“I was waiting,” Tristan said, reaching up with his good hand and placed his hand over hers.

“For?” Marty asked as he brought their hands closer and pressed his lips against the palm of her hand.

“You to entertain me,” he said, watching her lips twitch.

“Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?” Marty asked as he brought their hands down to rest on his stomach.

“It was in our vows,” Tristan said as Marty pulled her hand free so that she could place it over his.

“I don’t seem to remember that part,” she said, absently tracing circles on the back of his hand with her fingertip.

“It was in the fine print,” he assured her.

“I see,” Marty murmured while she continued tracing circles on the back of his hand.

“Do you?” Tristan asked, watching as a strand of her beautiful, dark hair dropped into her face. He moved to reach over to push the strand back behind her ear only to sigh heavily when the sling and bandage securing his arm to his chest stopped him.

Nodding, Marty pulled her hand back and pushed the strand behind her ear as she sat up only to tear a groan from him when she climbed onto his lap and settled back on his thighs. “I have an idea,” she said while Tristan reached back and grabbed a pillow and shoved it behind his head.

“And what’s that?” Tristan drawled, shifting to get more comfortable as he took in his old police academy tee-shirt that his wife helped herself to that ended mid-thigh.

“That you allow me to interrogate you while you look at me adoringly,” Marty said, making his lips twitch as he watched her pull her hair up into a messy bun before running his eyes over her, taking in the mischievous glint in her eye, the smile teasing her lips down to the way the soft cotton material outlined her breasts that he swore were bigger and couldn’t help but groan.

Six incredibly long weeks without being allowed to touch her was fucking killing him.

He missed touching her, kissing her, the way that she used to run her hands over him, moaning softly in his ear while he took his time teasing her, and just how fucking good it felt to slide inside her. He’d spent the first two weeks in the ICU, drugged out of his fucking mind and struggling to keep his eyes open while she’d held his hand.

That was followed by spending two weeks in a regular room, where his brothers annoyed the shit out of him for shits and giggles before they released him. He’d planned on getting off medical and back to work as soon as he got home, but his wife had other plans…

As soon as he walked through the front door, his brothers grabbed hold of him and brought him upstairs, dumping his ass on the bed. When he shoved their hands away and climbed off the bed, they’d let him make it to the door before they grabbed him and put him right back on the bed. They kept doing that until he was too fucking exhausted to do anything more than to tell them to fuck off before he passed out.

Since then, they’d watched over him, making sure that he didn’t leave the bed unless it was absolutely necessary and even then, they made sure that he didn’t do anything that would send him back to the hospital and it was all because of the incredibly beautiful woman that he couldn’t live without.

“What do you want to know?” Tristan murmured absently as he finished running his eyes over her.

“Everything,” Marty said, making his lips twitch as he placed his good hand on her thigh and nearly fucking groaned.

“I think I can handle that,” Tristan said, running his hand over smooth, tan skin before he slipped his hand beneath her shirt and-

Grumbled when she grabbed his hand and placed it back on her thigh.

“How much do you remember?” Marty asked, watching him curiously.

“About…” Tristan said, letting the word trail off as he began absently caressing her thigh with his thumb.

“The first time we met,” she said, shifting to get more comfortable.

“When Tom brought me home?” he asked, watching his thumb glide over her skin.

“No, the very first time,” Marty said, shaking her head.

“Everything,” Tristan said, reaching up to run his fingertips along her jaw.

“Every life?” she asked, watching him curiously.

“Every life,” he promised her.

“How many lives?” Marty asked after a slight hesitation.

“Twenty-eight,” Tristan said, watching as she thought that over.

“Twenty-eight?” she repeated back slowly.

“Yes,” Tristan said as he dropped his hand back to her thigh and began caressing her skin with his fingertips.

“What was I like before?” Marty asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched his fingertips move over her skin.

“A pain in the ass,” he drawled, watching her lips twitch.

“That sounds about right,” Marty said, shifting to get more comfortable and-

Oh, fuck…

A groan was torn from his throat when the move caused her to shift onto his lap, gently caressing his poor neglected cock through his boxers in the process. God, she was fucking destroying him, Tristan thought as he his fingers stilled against her skin.

“What else?” Marty asked as she reached down and began tracing his abs with her fingertip, making it really fucking difficult to focus.

“You were also incredibly beautiful, smart, and you took my breath away,” Tristan said as he slid his fingertips up her thigh and-

Licked his lips hungrily as he watched her lips part on a soft moan when his fingertips found their way beneath the hem of the large tee-shirt that she was wearing and brushed against her soft cotton panties.

“I’m still off-limits,” she reminded him as he traced her lips with his fingertips.

“As long as I don’t exert myself…” Tristan said, letting his words trail off as his gaze flickered up to meet her gaze, watching as she released a shaky breath.

She opened her mouth, most likely to remind him of all the restrictions the doctor placed on him, only to moan, “Oh, God…” when he pulled her panties aside so that he could tease her slit with the back of his knuckle.

“This is a bad idea,” Marty said, to herself or him, he wasn’t sure as she shifted on his lap again, making his already aching cock harden past the point of pain.

“What if I promise not to move?” Tristan asked, watching her think it over and-

“I’d have to call you a liar,” Marty said with a disappointed sigh as she suddenly stopped shifting and climbed off his lap. “We have to be good,” she said firmly only to swallow hard at his next words.

“Mo ghrá…” Tristan said, letting the Irish brogue that came naturally take over.

He watched as she went still and-

“Say it again,” Marty whispered.

“Mo ghrá,” Tristan said, letting his brogue thicken as he reached into his boxers and pulled his cock free.

“Your arm,” Marty mumbled weakly as she watched his hand slowly move over his cock.

“Won’t move an inch,” Tristan promised as he watched her.

“There’s a list of rules,” she mumbled helplessly.

“And I’ll follow them, mo ghrá,” Tristan promised, knowing that he wasn’t playing fair and not fucking caring, not if it meant being able to touch his wife again.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Marty asked while she considered him.

Without a word, Tristan ran his hand over his cock one last time before he pulled his hand away and reached back, grabbing hold of the headboard. He watched as Marty watched the move before she met his gaze.

Keeping her gaze locked with his, she reached down and pulled the nightstand drawer open and had him groaning when she pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He watched as she reached over and cuffed his good arm before she attached the other end to the headboard.

“What now?” Tristan asked as he watched her pull off her shirt and drop it on the floor.

“Now, I finish my interrogation,” Marty said, hooking her thumbs in her panties before she slowly pulled them down, nearly fucking killing him as he watched her reveal the soft, neatly trimmed curls glistening between her legs.

“What else do you want to know?” Tristan asked, watching as she climbed back onto the bed and settled onto his lap.

“Just how long you’ve been in love with me, Detective Black,” Marty asked, leaning over to brush her lips against his and-

“Forever.”