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Naked in front of the mirror, I washed my hands with an unwilling
smile because he’d listened. He’d heard me and adjusted.
Logan Crowne had changed just a little for me.
That was cool.
When I opened the door, he was standing there, dick still at attention.
“I want you,” he said, coming toward me. “We’re married. That is what
it is. Whether or not you’re the wife I need in six months or ten years
doesn’t matter. You’re the woman I need right now. I’m not giving you up.
You’re mine.”
I put my hands on the counter behind me. “I can’t let you break me.”
“Listen to me.” He laid his hands on my shoulders, moving them to the
sides of my neck. “No man is strong enough to break you.”
“You’re so sure?”
“I know they tried. But look at me. Compared to you, I’m empty.
Hollow. The slightest tap from you and I’ll crack in a hundred places. I
belong to you. If anyone’s walking out of this broken, it’s going to be me. I
want to risk it, and if I bleed when you leave me, it’ll still all be worth it.”
He wasn’t lying, but he was misinformed. He’d misjudged my resilience
and miscalculated my strength.
But as wrong as he was about me, and for me, I wanted him.
I wanted him for more than six months, more than a lifetime.
“Let’s give it a shot then.”
The light of his smile was so real I nearly had to squint. “Good.” He
kissed me. “Good girl.”
His kisses went from loving pecks to deep passion.
As sore as I was, I was wet again. Then he pulled back.
“New rule,” he said.
“There are rules?”
“No more playing wife. You have to do what makes you happy.”
“Did the nineteen-fifties kick you out?” I ran my nails down his chest
and stomach.
He laughed and kissed me again.
“What if you make me happy?” I asked.
He hitched me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Then I’ll be
the happiest man alive.”
That night, my husband slept in my bed for the first time, as if that was
what I needed to do to let myself love him. The fact was, I already did.