Page 46

Carson

Several Years Later

“ I want to feel you,” Wren whispers, her voice husky and rough from sleep—or maybe from need. That sexy rasp has always undone me, especially when she’s begging.

“Where, Tink?” I lean in, teeth grazing the shell of her ear. With her vision hindered, every brush of my skin against hers lands sharper.

“So deep it hurts,” she moans. “So deep I can’t breathe.”

I grip her hair, twist it around my fist, and slide inside her with a deep grunt.

Her perfect ass clenches around me, and I swear I lose a little sanity every time.

That heart-shaped ass has lived in my fantasies since the first time I saw it.

I’ve always been an ass guy—and hers? It’s the gold standard.

Even after all these years, she’s still the only one I want.

The only one I’ll ever want. She’s a phenomenal mother to our three kids, the fiercest protector of our peace, and the calm at the center of my chaos.

I’ll never understand how I got this lucky.

I just know I’d burn the world down to keep her.

She’s transformed this house into a home. She’s my best friend. My person. I’d tear heaven apart to find her in another life. And if there’s one thing I know with every piece of who I am, it’s this: without her, I’d be nothing.

I slide deeper inside her, one hand gripping her hip while the other moves to wrap around her throat—just the way she likes. We move in rhythm, chasing the high we know by heart. I woke her up this morning with my tongue buried in her, and now she’s making damn sure I know she wasn’t done with me.

And there’s no way I’ll ever be done with her.

“I’m not playin’ that again. The kids are old enough to start havin’ their own game nights in the other room.”

Wren places the game box on the bathroom counter and crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side. She’s eyeing me with that look that always spells trouble— or fun .

For two years, we’ve been stuck in a loop of candy trails and plastic hippos at family game night. I’ve had enough. Sure, it’s fine the first twenty-four thousand times . But I’m a grown man, and I want to play something that doesn’t involve singing farm animals.

“I’ll make it worth your while if you don’t complain about it,” she says, raising her brows and biting her lip in that way that makes me forget my own name.

The kids stayed with their cousins last night so we could have some much-needed alone time.

“Anything I want?” I ask, adjusting the towel around my waist as I step from the shower.

She nods, eyes soft and teasing as she rolls her lower lip between her teeth with a sheepish grin. “Anything.”

“Strip.”

She gives me a coy smile but doesn’t move.

“You heard me, Tink.”

“Carse…” She giggles, taking a quick look in the mirror. “We don’t have time. We’ll be late.”

I tilt my head, pretending to search for a single fuck to give.

“I don’t care who has to wait an extra fifteen minutes. I’m gonna watch my naked wife choke on my cock just the way she enjoys, and then I’m gonna take what else is mine… Now strip .”

That playful gleam I know so well sparks in her eyes as she slowly lifts her shirt over her head, revealing a delicate yellow lace bra that makes my pulse spike. Every part of me wants to tear the rest off with my teeth, but I hold back. I want to watch .

Piece by piece, her clothes hit the floor.

Once she’s fully bare, I step closer and shut the door. We’re home alone, sure—but after a few close calls over the years, shutting the door is instinct now.

I breathe her in, that sweet scent that’s always been her. Pressing close, I lean in to her ear and whisper, low and firm.

“On your knees, wife.”

Wren

The house is quiet now.

The kind of quiet you don’t realize you miss until you’re in the thick of life—sticky fingers, spilled juice, and the endless soundtrack of sibling bickering followed by bursts of laughter. I love our chaos. But this? This is nice too.

The dishes are washed. The game is packed away—Carson grumbled through every round, but I caught him laughing when our oldest declared himself “King of the Marble Realm.” And now, all three kids are asleep, sprawled across beds and blankets and beanbags like they ran out of fuel mid-sentence.

I pull the soft throw over our youngest, brushing raven hair from her forehead as her chest rises and falls with steady, peaceful breaths. A quiet ache forms in my chest. How did we get here? How did this life become ours ?

Behind me, I hear Carson’s familiar footsteps. Heavy but never hurried.

He steps into the doorway and leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching me the way he always does—like I’m something sacred. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re starin’ again,” I whisper.

“Can’t help it.”

Crossing the room, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. His lips brush the top of my head.

“She has your nose,” he says softly, nodding toward our daughter. “Your smile, too.”

“She has your temper,” I tease, leaning into him.

“Poor kid.” He chuckles. “God help anyone who tries to tell her she can’t do something.”

“She’ll change the world,” I whisper.

“She already changed mine,” he replies without hesitation.

I tilt my head back to look up at him. His eyes catch the moonlight drifting through the window, warm and full of something deeper than words—something that says he knows . He knows how far we’ve come. He knows how much we’ve had to grow to make it here.

And he knows that no matter how many years pass, I’ll never stop loving him.

I reach up and brush my fingers along his jaw. “This is my favorite version of you, you know.”

“What version is that?”

“The one who hums lullabies under his breath without realizing. The one who stays up late fixing bike chains and packing school lunches. The one who always finds his way back to me, no matter how hard the day was.”

He pulls me in and presses his lips to mine—slow and lingering.

“This is my favorite version of us,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You and me, just…livin’. After everything.”

My heart squeezes, and I nod, speechless.

He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Come on, Tink,” he whispers. “Feels like a porch swing kinda night.”

I smile and let him lead me, our steps slow and quiet through the dim hallway. And when we settle into that old porch swing—his arm around me, my head on his shoulder—it feels just like it did all those years ago.

Only now, everything we were afraid to dream of back then is finally ours.