Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(36)

I snuggle into him and place my head on his chest. “I swear I’ve never seen so many stars,” I murmur.

He kisses the top of my head, and asks, “Would you say there are more stars here than back in Harmony Creek?”

The reminder of our rooftop picnic makes me smile.

“There may be more here,” I reply, “but our stars back home will always be the best.”

Chase chuckles. “Hate to break it to you, sweet girl, but these are the same exact stars.”

“Ah, don’t ruin it for me,” I tease.

Feeling playful, I roll to my stomach and place a hand on his chest. “And too bad for you, if you do ruin it,” I add cryptically.

With his hand going to mine—covering, holding—he inquires, “What does that mean, babe?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I coyly respond.

“Tell me,” he insists.

“Okay,” I relent. “I was thinking if these stars are different, then we should make love under them. Kind of christen them out here in the desert, you know?” I shrug. “But, hey, since they’re the same, why bother—”

I get no further. Chase swiftly flips me to my back and pins me under his solid body.

With his lips grazing mine, he whispers, “I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. These stars are most definitely different”—he kisses me fully on the mouth—“and most definitely in need of christening.”

“Well,” I murmur, breathless. “When you put it like that…”

Chase and I then make love under the stars—once, twice, numerous times throughout the night. It feels as nature intended—bodies bare and joined, as man and woman, as husband and wife.

I love Chase with my body, yes, but also with my heart and soul. And he loves me in return, in the same ways, as indicated by his tender kisses and reverent touches as we move as one.

When I think I have nothing left—no baby, no more, I cry out—he shows me how wrong I am.

With measured thrusts, he urges, “Come for me one more time, Kay.”

I lift my hips, my body knowing better than I, even as I utter, “I can’t.”

“You can,” he rasps, his pace increasing.

And with Chase in me, on me, over me, and around me, I discover he is right.

One final time, in the deep of the night and under the stars, I come undone for my husband, Chase Gartner.





Chase



Sending Kay back to Harmony Creek without me turns out to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. She’s become such a part of my life, and our bond transcends the marriage vows we took.

Put in the simplest terms, when Kay breathes, I breathe.

Before my love boards the plane, she wraps her little arms around me best as she can. In a choked-up voice, she says, “Do you realize this will be the first time we’ve been apart since we first met?”

Surely that can’t be right.

“Wait,” I say. “We spent our nights apart in the early days. Remember, we didn’t sleep in the same bed until after we were together for almost a month.”

The first night we ever spent together was when Kay showed up on my doorstep, frightened and hurt from the junkie who had accosted her in her then-apartment parking lot.

With her cheek pressed firmly to my chest, she murmurs, “Still, Chase, we were together every day…even when I was mad at you over the incident with Missy.”

She trails off, and I murmur, “Ah, yes, the incident with Missy.”

Kay was pissed when she learned of an encounter I had, of the sexual variety, with her friend. Although, in my defense, the encounter happened before I met Kay. And she wasn’t so much mad over the event, she was pissed I’d never told her.

But that was then, and this is now.

Peering up at me, Kay says, “Even then, Chase, even when I was angry, I was always right next door to you. I never left your side.”

“No, you didn’t,” I reply.

Recalling the night we reconciled, I smile down at her. “You were right there with me. I saw the lights in your apartment. And when you came outside, you forgave me. I was playing old records, and we danced under the stars, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” she says, her cheek returning to rest against my chest. “That was also the night I told you about Sarah.”

Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I murmur, “You trusted me enough to share that horrible night with me.”

“And you trusted me enough to forgive me,” she whispers.

“There was nothing to forgive, Kay. You did nothing wrong the night Sarah passed away. You were a victim as much as she was.”

She looks up at me slowly. Her eyes hold mine, bleeding truth and caramel. “Still, Chase, you gave me the absolution I sought.”

“Baby…”

My heart aches with the sadness she still carries. Her pain is my pain. These burdens of ours, we share.

I hold her tightly. “Do you want me to go back with you to Ohio today? Because, I will, Kay, I will.”

My brother needs me, yes, but I will board that plane in a heartbeat if my wife needs me more.

But she shakes her head and assures me, “No. I want you to stay here for Will. I’ll be fine, Chase. Like I told you, school will keep me busy. And I’ll be waiting for you when you come home to Harmony Creek.”