Page 22 of Clear Shot (Lauderdale Knights #9)

Aiden

“Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” I ask when she’s been quiet a beat too long.

“It’s an amazed oh,” she admits. “I didn’t… I thought you were going to draw a hard line and give me an ultimatum.”

“Fuck, baby.” I frown. “How can I genuinely care about someone and do that? There is a line I don’t want to cross, but there has to be compromise in a relationship. Especially in a relationship where both people want to make it work.”

“So… you want this marriage to be… real?”

“I do.” I can’t believe I’m saying those words but it’s the truth.

“Are you sure?” Her face is filled with wonder and worry and a smidge of doubt, and all I want is to make all that negativity go away.

“Positive.” I cup her face with one hand.

“Like you said, there’s been something there since we met.

There was just a lot going on, with your job in Philly, my relationship with your brother, all the little details that made it complicated.

But now we’re married. It’s done. It’s legal. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.”

She crashes her mouth to mine, and I pull her astride me.

Even with a layer of clothes separating us there’s no mistaking the heat. The need. The electricity crackling between us.

I’m about to make love to my wife—again.

For the first time.

Because now it’s real.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper as she moves against me.

“I love your eyes,” she whispers back. “They’re like golden sunshine with tiny specks of green. They take my breath away—especially when you look at me the way you are right now.”

“Like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I’m about to make you come again?”

“Yes.” She drops her head to nibble my lips. “Like that.”

“I don’t know why you bothered to put on clothes,” I tease.

“I thought we were tired.”

“Another thing you need to know about me—very rarely will I be too tired for sex. In fact, I’m good for two, three, four times a day.”

She playfully bites her lip. “Is that all? Goodness, we may have to build up your stamina.”

I chuckle, squeezing her ass. “I’m going to pound that pussy into submission—then talk to me about stamina.”

She just shrugs. “Then I guess we might need to invest in some lube, to make sure I don’t get too sore.”

“Absolutely.” I make a mental note to pick some up while I’m on the road.

“Now… where were we?”

“You were about to take your clothes off.”

“Was I?” She cocks her head with a confused look on her face. “I don’t recall saying that.”

I rumble out a laugh. “Do I need to help you?”

Her eyes widen. “Maybe.”

I reach out and slowly begin lifting her top, pulling it gently over her head.

“Pretty,” I whisper gruffly.

She lifts to her knees, and I tug at her shorts and panties, pulling them together, first one side and then the other.

“Your turn,” she whispers.

“I might need your help this time.”

She runs a hand over the erection straining through my boxers. Then she drops down and nuzzles it. “Yum.”

We spend another day trying to help out in the community.

I buss tables at Cicero’s, trying to keep up with the steady stream of people who are in and out all day. People who’ve lost everything. People who don’t know where they’re going to sleep tonight. People who are going to literally start from scratch.

People who make me realize how lucky I am.

Both personally and professionally.

I come from a fucked-up background, but I’ve done well for myself and it feels good to give back.

It also feels good to look across the room at my beautiful wife, who’s serving people like she’s been waiting tables her whole life. She’s had a smile on her face all day, dealing with screaming babies, tired, dirty adults, and people who are too devastated to bother being polite.

I get it.

We all do.

Everyone is bending over backwards to do something. Anything.

Because as a team—our entire extended group of friends and colleagues—we’re all fine.

Many, many people are not.

“You thinking about a career change?” Vaughn asks as he whisks past me with a tub of dirty dishes.

I follow on his heels carrying one of my own.

“Are you?”

He laughs. “I’m going to say no. I’ve worked harder the last two days in the clean-up effort than I ever have on the ice.”

“Don’t let Coach hear you say that.”

We laugh together.

He hands the tub to the guy washing dishes and I put mine on the floor.

“How’s married life?” Vaughn asks as we head back to the dining room.

“It’s pretty great,” I say with a grin.

“There will be tough times,” he warns gently. “And I’m not trying to be a dick. Just reminding you that not everything will have the newlywed glow it has now.”

“We weathered a fucking hurricane a week into the marriage,” I respond with a grimace.

“Yeah, but that’s external. Like, you can’t control the weather. I’m talking about internal stuff. Arguments. Things will come up you never considered. Trust me—it’s going to happen.”

“So what’s your advice when it does?” I ask curiously.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Always give her the benefit of the doubt. Always put your love for her ahead of anything else. Because in the end, it’s your love that’s going to mend everything.”

Love .

We haven’t gotten to that point yet. At least, we haven’t verbalized it.

It’s close, hovering on the edge of my psyche, but I’m not ready to pull the trigger. Everything with Hana has been a whirlwind and when she said she wants to take the time to fall in love, that resonated deeply. That’s what I want too.

But I can’t tell Vaughn that.

Can’t say that we’re falling in love but not quite there yet.

That this whole marriage was a sham that took an unexpected turn.

Nope.

No one needs to know those things.

“What?” he asks when I hesitate.

“We rushed into marriage because of her visa,” I admit, since that’s not a secret. “So we’re taking things slow, finding our footing one day at a time. The feelings are there but everything else is a little hazy.”

He nods. “And that’s okay. I fell for Juliet hard and fast. It took us a little bit to find our footing too. That’s why I’m giving you the benefit of my experience.”

“I appreciate it.” I gaze across the room where Hana is holding a baby as the mother mixes a bottle. “She’s…special.”

“Well, yeah. Why else did you marry her?”

Why, indeed?

That’s a loaded question.

But I’m starting to see the answer.

I married her because I was already invested.

I married her because it was the excuse I needed to get out of the damn friend zone.

I married her because I was already halfway in love with her.

Now I just have to get the rest of the way there.

“You look a little terrified,” Vaughn says with a grin.

“Everything happened really fast,” I admit.

“And now I have to leave on a road trip. We don’t even have a place of our own anymore.

I had to borrow a suit from Jordan because all of mine were either ruined or need to be dry cleaned and none of the places I use are open yet.

And she’s upset about losing something called… Louboutins?”

Vaughn arched his brows. “Were they ruined?”

“You know what they are?”

He chuckles. “Uh, yeah. Very, very expensive shoes. Like, thousand-dollar shoes.”

I grimace.

I had no idea.

And they were destroyed.

A thousand dollars?

It seems extravagant but I’m not one to talk considering my five-thousand-dollar TV and the tens of thousands of dollars I’ve spent on motorcycles over the years.

“That might be a nice gift for her when you get back,” he suggests softly.

“I know we’re looking around at all this post-hurricane devastation and thinking something like that is wasteful, but there are people suffering all over the world.

We’re doing our part to help—but we still get to live our lives.

And you still get to show your wife thoughtfulness and caring.

That you listen. That her needs are important to you. ”

I think about the picture frame I hadn’t noticed, the one of the two of us on the day we met. She was thoughtful enough to print and frame it, put it up in our apartment, and I never noticed.

I won’t make a mistake like that again.

Going forward, my wife—and her needs and feelings—will be a priority.

“You’re right,” I say, nodding. “But first I need to figure out what size she wears.”

“Those are things you need to commit to memory,” he replies. “Shoe size, clothing size, even her weight. Know those things like you know your own.”

“Got it.”

There’s a lot to this being married stuff but I’m up for the job.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to think about my wife because a group of at least fifteen people just walked in the front door.

“Back to work!” Vaughn says, nudging me.