After, his head dropped forward and his face disappeared in my neck.
His c**k was buried deep. My limbs were still holding him tight.
Healthy.
Alive.
Gorgeous.
Breathing.
In one piece.
Deep in me.
Ty.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
“One way to get you to calm the f**k down and stop crying,” he said against the skin of my neck and my body went still. His head came up; he looked down at me and grinned. “Divorce papers are on the counter, mama. You want me to get up and go get ‘em so you can sign ‘em?”
I decided I’d get pissed later at the belated but highly inappropriate show that he had a very good sense of humor.
Instead I declared, “You get up and go anywhere, I’m tackling you.”
His body shook as his grin spread to a smile. Then he asked, “You honestly think you can tackle me?”
“I didn’t say it would be a successful tackle.”
And then my husband burst out laughing.
And I watched.
He didn’t give this to me often but I always watched. This time it was way better because he was doing it while still inside me.
Then his laughter died to a chuckle, he dropped his forehead to mine and his hand came up and curled around the side of my neck.
And when he did the last, the laughter died, his eyes held mine and he whispered, “Is my mama home?”
I swallowed but I still knew my eyes got bright and my voice was husky when I whispered back, “Yes.”
He closed his eyes, shifted the lower half of his face and touched his mouth to mine. Then he lifted his head away, opened his eyes and I felt his thumb stroke my jaw.
His gaze again locked with mine, he told me gently, “Missed you, baby.”
I swallowed again and my arms and legs tightened around him. “Me too.”
“Do not ever leave me like that again,” he ordered.
I decided not to remind him he told me to.
Instead, I said softly, “Okay.”
He stared at me. Then he said softly back, “Okay.”
Then he bent his head, touched his mouth to mine, pulled gently out and then he reached out a long arm, tagged my underwear, shifted his lower half and pulled my panties up my legs. Then he rolled off me and got to his feet, righting his jeans as he moved. I lifted up, my torso turning and twisting to keep him in my sights as he walked to the kitchen. Then I watched, my chin on my arm resting on the back of the couch, as he tagged a manila envelope from the counter, walked to the junk drawer at the side, dug through it and found what he wanted. Then I watched him walk to the kitchen sink. He dug out a bunch of dishes and put them on the counter (at a glance, it was very clear Ty was not tidy, so I kept it solely at a glance).
Then my breath stopped as I watched him strike a match and light the envelope on fire. He twisted and turned it until it was a sheet of flame in his hand.
Then he dropped it in the sink and watched it burn out. He tossed the matches on the counter and started directly back to me.
“Divorce papers,” he stated.
I stared at him in shock.
Then I watched my man and his big, beautiful body with its equally beautiful tats walking back to me.
Then I grinned.
He grinned back.
Then I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
* * * * *
Ty
“All’s well that ends well, my man,” Julius said in his ear.
“All’s well that ends well, my ass, Champ. Jesus f**kin’ Christ, are you insane?” Walker shot back and he felt his wife’s body shift.
He looked down at her. He had a f**kload of her toss pillows shoved behind his back on the armrest of the couch so he was only partially reclined. She had one hip in the back of the couch, the rest of her soft body was on his, his arm curled around her back, hand up his tee she was wearing, his fingers trailing the bare skin of her rounded ass. He was talking on the phone. She was watching her finger tracing his tat and she was doing this like she was committing it to memory. She was wearing his tee and nothing else. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else; he hadn’t even bothered to button but two of the buttons mainly because he wasn’t done with her.
“She there?” Julius asked in his ear.
“Yeah,” Walker replied.
“She stayin’?” Julius went on and Walker’s pulse spiked.
“Yeah,” Walker repeated.
“She naked?” Julius kept going and Walker clamped his mouth shut.
Julius chuckled, assuming mostly wrongly. Lexie was in his tee but still, by no means was access hindered.
Then Julius spoke again. “You give this time, you’ll stop bein’ pissed and thank me. Now, seein’ as you two are reuniting and I ain’t sleepin’ on no couch, Anana and me have checked into Carnal Hotel. My woman, for some f**kin’ reason, right now is sittin’ in reception playin’ fuckin’ Harry Potter f**kin’ Clue with the proprietors. I’m gonna leave her to that shit ‘cause, you know me, brother, I got no interest in f**kin’ Clue. Colonel Mustard did it, however the motherfucker did it, his ass is in the hole. Don’t need a reminder a’ that shit. So I’m gonna get my trunks on and take a dip. We’ll all go out and celebrate tomorrow ‘cause the next day, Anana and me gotta get our asses home. You’re buyin’. That Rooster place. And you’re buyin’ ‘cause, no matter how pissed you are right now, you know you owe me.”
Before Walker could reply, Julius gave him dead air.
He flipped his phone shut, tossed it on Lexie’s jeans on the floor and scowled at it.
“We need a coffee table,” she noted quietly and his eyes moved from his phone to his woman.
She’d stopped tracing his tat and her eyes were on him. They were still slightly swollen from crying but they were also still beautiful.
The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
We need a coffee table.
Fuck.
Fuck!
His mama was home.
She was home and those f**king divorce papers were ashes in his sink.
That something inside him, that thing she gave him, that thing that had been gone since she was, making him feel hollow, empty, came back, filling him up. It shifted and again started settling.
She’d been there now for hours. After he burned the papers, he went back to her and took his time welcoming her home and he didn’t do it with words. The first time was urgent, desperate, the same feelings for both of them but for different reasons.
The second time was not.
When he was done with her, she got on her phone. She got on her phone because, no matter he’d f**ked up and hurt her, people who cared about him were worried.
His c**k was buried deep. My limbs were still holding him tight.
Healthy.
Alive.
Gorgeous.
Breathing.
In one piece.
Deep in me.
Ty.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
“One way to get you to calm the f**k down and stop crying,” he said against the skin of my neck and my body went still. His head came up; he looked down at me and grinned. “Divorce papers are on the counter, mama. You want me to get up and go get ‘em so you can sign ‘em?”
I decided I’d get pissed later at the belated but highly inappropriate show that he had a very good sense of humor.
Instead I declared, “You get up and go anywhere, I’m tackling you.”
His body shook as his grin spread to a smile. Then he asked, “You honestly think you can tackle me?”
“I didn’t say it would be a successful tackle.”
And then my husband burst out laughing.
And I watched.
He didn’t give this to me often but I always watched. This time it was way better because he was doing it while still inside me.
Then his laughter died to a chuckle, he dropped his forehead to mine and his hand came up and curled around the side of my neck.
And when he did the last, the laughter died, his eyes held mine and he whispered, “Is my mama home?”
I swallowed but I still knew my eyes got bright and my voice was husky when I whispered back, “Yes.”
He closed his eyes, shifted the lower half of his face and touched his mouth to mine. Then he lifted his head away, opened his eyes and I felt his thumb stroke my jaw.
His gaze again locked with mine, he told me gently, “Missed you, baby.”
I swallowed again and my arms and legs tightened around him. “Me too.”
“Do not ever leave me like that again,” he ordered.
I decided not to remind him he told me to.
Instead, I said softly, “Okay.”
He stared at me. Then he said softly back, “Okay.”
Then he bent his head, touched his mouth to mine, pulled gently out and then he reached out a long arm, tagged my underwear, shifted his lower half and pulled my panties up my legs. Then he rolled off me and got to his feet, righting his jeans as he moved. I lifted up, my torso turning and twisting to keep him in my sights as he walked to the kitchen. Then I watched, my chin on my arm resting on the back of the couch, as he tagged a manila envelope from the counter, walked to the junk drawer at the side, dug through it and found what he wanted. Then I watched him walk to the kitchen sink. He dug out a bunch of dishes and put them on the counter (at a glance, it was very clear Ty was not tidy, so I kept it solely at a glance).
Then my breath stopped as I watched him strike a match and light the envelope on fire. He twisted and turned it until it was a sheet of flame in his hand.
Then he dropped it in the sink and watched it burn out. He tossed the matches on the counter and started directly back to me.
“Divorce papers,” he stated.
I stared at him in shock.
Then I watched my man and his big, beautiful body with its equally beautiful tats walking back to me.
Then I grinned.
He grinned back.
Then I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
* * * * *
Ty
“All’s well that ends well, my man,” Julius said in his ear.
“All’s well that ends well, my ass, Champ. Jesus f**kin’ Christ, are you insane?” Walker shot back and he felt his wife’s body shift.
He looked down at her. He had a f**kload of her toss pillows shoved behind his back on the armrest of the couch so he was only partially reclined. She had one hip in the back of the couch, the rest of her soft body was on his, his arm curled around her back, hand up his tee she was wearing, his fingers trailing the bare skin of her rounded ass. He was talking on the phone. She was watching her finger tracing his tat and she was doing this like she was committing it to memory. She was wearing his tee and nothing else. He was wearing his jeans and nothing else; he hadn’t even bothered to button but two of the buttons mainly because he wasn’t done with her.
“She there?” Julius asked in his ear.
“Yeah,” Walker replied.
“She stayin’?” Julius went on and Walker’s pulse spiked.
“Yeah,” Walker repeated.
“She naked?” Julius kept going and Walker clamped his mouth shut.
Julius chuckled, assuming mostly wrongly. Lexie was in his tee but still, by no means was access hindered.
Then Julius spoke again. “You give this time, you’ll stop bein’ pissed and thank me. Now, seein’ as you two are reuniting and I ain’t sleepin’ on no couch, Anana and me have checked into Carnal Hotel. My woman, for some f**kin’ reason, right now is sittin’ in reception playin’ fuckin’ Harry Potter f**kin’ Clue with the proprietors. I’m gonna leave her to that shit ‘cause, you know me, brother, I got no interest in f**kin’ Clue. Colonel Mustard did it, however the motherfucker did it, his ass is in the hole. Don’t need a reminder a’ that shit. So I’m gonna get my trunks on and take a dip. We’ll all go out and celebrate tomorrow ‘cause the next day, Anana and me gotta get our asses home. You’re buyin’. That Rooster place. And you’re buyin’ ‘cause, no matter how pissed you are right now, you know you owe me.”
Before Walker could reply, Julius gave him dead air.
He flipped his phone shut, tossed it on Lexie’s jeans on the floor and scowled at it.
“We need a coffee table,” she noted quietly and his eyes moved from his phone to his woman.
She’d stopped tracing his tat and her eyes were on him. They were still slightly swollen from crying but they were also still beautiful.
The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
We need a coffee table.
Fuck.
Fuck!
His mama was home.
She was home and those f**king divorce papers were ashes in his sink.
That something inside him, that thing she gave him, that thing that had been gone since she was, making him feel hollow, empty, came back, filling him up. It shifted and again started settling.
She’d been there now for hours. After he burned the papers, he went back to her and took his time welcoming her home and he didn’t do it with words. The first time was urgent, desperate, the same feelings for both of them but for different reasons.
The second time was not.
When he was done with her, she got on her phone. She got on her phone because, no matter he’d f**ked up and hurt her, people who cared about him were worried.
