Never Giving Up (Never #3)(52)

For two weeks now we focused on Mattie and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We loved her and would do anything for her. But when I realized that, for the first time since we’d been home from the hospital with her, she was asleep in the middle of the day and I wasn’t completely exhausted, my mind immediately started thinking about how much I missed my husband.

I found him in the laundry room, moving clothes from the washer to the dryer—bless him. He was focused on his task and didn’t hear me approach. I felt him startle a little when I slid my hands around his waist from behind, pressing my front to his back, snuggling in. His hand slid over top of mine, caressing me, causing my breaths to come faster. It had been so long since we’d been together and I was now a little angry at the fact that we still had four more weeks to wait.

I breathed him in, cherishing the familiarity of his scent. He always smelled the same and I came to rely on it, expect it, love it.

“Hey, Babe,” he said softly, aware of the fact that Mattie was asleep, not wanting to wake her. “What’s up? Gonna go lie down?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the P, with my face still resting against his back.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, making me smile against him.

“Nope.” This time I popped the P loudly, making him chuckle.

“Ok.”

I loosened my grip and walked around him, placing myself between him and the washing machine, and looked up at him, my hands now on his chest.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hey.” He looked at me with pure confusion, a smile playing on his face as he tried to figure out what it was I wanted from him, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I miss you.” My whisper was even softer, my insecurity coming over me, a little embarrassed to be putting myself out there so blatantly. His brow relaxed at my words, but a new look of concern had worry lines forming around his eyes. There was a very large part of me that I just now realized was hanging by a thread, scared to death that he would reject me. My hands slid around his neck, fingers running through the hair there, gently urging him down to me. He came willingly, but stopped short, his forehead resting against mine.

“I’m right here,” he said breathily, his hands coming to rest against my back, right at the swell of my backside.

“Are you? Because you feel pretty far away right now.” I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. He knew what I was asking for, yet he held it just out of arms reach.

“Ella, we can’t. Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not sex, Porter, just . . . I don’t know . . . us.” I dropped my hands from his neck and pulled back, putting some distance between us. “You use to hold me every night. You would hold my hand at the dinner table, touch me as you passed by, find any reason you could just to touch me.” He tried to open his mouth to interject but I put my hand up. “Let me finish.” I took a deep breath, finding the courage to continue. “I know things are different now. I know that there’s a baby in our bed and I don’t look the same.” My words became a little strangled as I felt a lump forming in my throat. “I just don’t want to lose that part of us that I love so much, the part where we’re never close enough to each other.”

I continued to look down, not wanting to witness his rejection or his dismissal. But goose bumps raised up all over my skin when I felt a single fingertip bring my chin up. When our eyes met, I couldn’t ignore the concern still written across his face.

“Don’t ever question my need for you, Ella. Don’t insult our relationship that way. Don’t insult yourself either. I’m sorry if I’ve done a poor job of making you feel secure.” He said and his hands ran up my shoulders, coming to rest on either side of my neck, his thumbs smoothing over my jaw. “I’ve been so focused on making sure Mattie is taken care of and then making sure you’re taken care of, I just feel like I can’t do enough for either of you. But don’t doubt, ever, that I want you.” His face moved down and his lips rested just barely on my ear. “I crave you,” he sighed into me, the air from his mouth moved against my ear and I melted even further against him. “I refuse to be the husband,” he said, splaying kisses gently across my neck, “who pressures his wife,” more kisses, “who’s just given him the greatest gift,” wetter kisses now, “to have sex with him before she’s ready.” His hands roamed, one still on the back of my neck, the other moving down my side, grazing my ribcage.

“I don’t need sex, Porter. I just need you.” He stepped into me, pressing my back against the washing machine, his hands grabbing ahold of me firmly where they lay. His eyes suddenly peered into mine, both of us breathing hard, my heart beating rapidly. Then slowly his mouth lowered to mine.

His kiss started slow and gentle, as if her were afraid he would break me if he pushed me too far. We’d done little more than peck on the mouth since Mattie was born. She was our focus, but right now, I wanted to feel something besides his concern, besides his need to care for us. I wanted him to remember the passion we shared between us, needed him to bring me that point where he was my everything and I was his.

When his tongue teased the seam of my lips I opened for him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue sought out mine, pressing against it firmly, guiding our kiss. His hands came to my cheeks, angling my face just right so that he could devour me. What started out gentle was now heated, and he kissed me like I was the last little bit of air left in the world and he was drowning. He breathed me in, using me, taking me, and I loved it.