Point of Retreat(90)

Before I can bend down and take her in my arms the traditional way, she puts her arms on my shoulders and jumps up, wrapping her legs around my waist. I have to grab hold of her thighs before she slips. Her lips are right in proximity to mine now, so they briefly get kissed. She grins and runs her hands through the back of my hair, forcing my mouth onto hers again. I try to grip her legs with one hand and her waist with the other, but it feels like she’s slipping so I take two quick steps until she’s propped up against a hotel room door. It’s not our door, but it does the job. As soon as her back hits the door, she moans. I remember the bruises from a few weeks ago and think I may have just hurt her. I break apart from her with a concerned look on my face.

“Are you okay? Did I just hurt your back?”



She grins. “No. That was a good sound.”



The intensity in her eyes is magnetic. I’m unable to break our stare as I stand there, holding her up against the door. I grab the underneath of her thighs with my hands and hoist her up even higher, pressing my body against hers for more leverage. “Five more minutes,” I say.

I grin and lean in to kiss her again, but she’s suddenly further away. As soon as I realize the hotel room door we’re leaning against is opening up behind her, I do my best to catch her. Instead, I fall to the ground with her and we both end up in a heap on the floor of someone's hotel room. She still has her arms around my neck and she’s laughing until she looks up and sees a man and two children staring down at us. He doesn’t look very pleased.

“Run,” I whisper. We both crawl out of the hotel room and pull ourselves up. I take her hand in mine and we run down the hallway until we find our room. I slide the key into the reader but before I open the door, she slips in front of me and faces me.

“Three more minutes,” she says. She reaches behind her and pulls down on the handle, swinging the door open. “Now carry me over the threshold, Husband.”



I bend down and grab her behind the knees and pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder. She squeals and I push the door open with her feet. I take a step and walk over the threshold with my wife.

The door slams behind us and I ease her down onto the bed.

“I smell chocolate. And flowers,” she says. “Good job, Husband.”



I lift her leg up and slide her boot off. “Thank you, Wife." I lift her other leg up and slide that boot off, too. "I also remembered the fruit. And the robes.”



She winks at me and rolls over, scooting up onto the bed. When she gets settled, she leans forward and grabs my hand, pulling me toward her. “Come here, Husband,” she whispers.

I start to make my way up the bed, but pause when I come face to face with her shirt. “I wish you’d take this ugly thing off,” I say.

“You’re the one who hates it so much. You take it off.”



And so I do. I start from the bottom this time and press my lips against her skin where her stomach meets the top of her pants, causing her to squirm. She’s ticklish there. Good to know. I unbutton the next button and slowly move my lips up another inch to her belly button. I kiss it. She lets out another moan, but it doesn’t worry me this time. I continue kissing every inch of her until the ugly shirt is finally off and lying on the floor. When my lips find their way back to hers, I pause and look her in the eyes to ask her one last time.

“Wife? Are you sure you’re ready to not call retreat? Right now?”



She wraps her legs around me and pulls me closer. “I’m butterflying positive,” she says.

And so we don’t.



The End



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Point of Retreat Copyright ? 2012 Colleen Hoover



All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except that brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews are permitted.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Front Cover Image: Danilo Rizzuti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net