A Valentine’s Day Interlude

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” I gripped Wes’s hand tight as he led me into the belly of a private plane. He didn’t own a plane like my insanely rich brother did, but he’d rented one for the day to take us to an unknown destination he’d been taunting me with all week. 

Wes shook his head. “Trust me.” 

His face was alight with joy. Something I relished seeing. 

Ever since we got married six weeks ago, he’d been far closer to the man I fell in love with. The demons that had infiltrated his life back in September due to his captivity were slowly seeping out of his pores with every passing day. I made it my life’s goal to obliterate those monsters completely by being a supportive wife, a friend, but most importantly, lavishing him with love. He’d told me many times before that I was his touchstone, his talisman to the real world, and I took that role seriously.

I groaned and settled into the plush tan leather recliner. Wes situated our carry-on and then sat down next to me. The sole stewardess entered the cabin from a draped off area. She carried two glasses of champagne flutes filled with what I assumed was orange juice. 

“Mimosas?” She held out the two glasses. 

Wes and I each took one. 

“Thank you.” I smiled. 

When she left, Wes turned toward me, his green eyes sparkling. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” 

I grinned and clinked his glass with mine. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Now are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” 

He waggled his eyebrows and smirked. “Nope. Just sit back, enjoy your drink, and we’ll be to our destination in no time.” 

“Fine.” I pursed my lips together and looked out the window. Wes had kept me up late last night with a pre-valentine celebration, naked and pretzel-style, so I could use a few winks. I closed my eyes and leaned my chair back enough to take the tension off my neck. In no time, I was out. 

***

“Hey, sweetheart, wake up. We’re here.” 

A feather light touch ran from my temple down the side of my face. Before I could fully wake, a moist pressure dipped against my lips. I smiled and kissed my man back. The beachy scent of salt, sea, and musk hit my nose, and I deepened the kiss, opening my mouth and licking into Wes’s. Yum. He tasted of orange juice with a hint of sugar. 

Wes growled into my mouth, delving his tongue in deeper to flick against mine. He cupped both of my cheeks and tunneled his fingers into my loose hair. I’d left it down today, knowing that my man liked my hair flowing and free. Wes considered my lengthy locks an invitation to fondle and run his hands through them. I enjoyed that Pavlovian response and went to great lengths to feed my desire for his touch. 

A couple more swipes of his tongue, a final nibble of my bottom lip, and Wes pulled away. His eyes had darkened, nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened. “Christ, you make me crazy in all the right ways.” He ran a hand through his blond layers and tugged at the roots.

I loved when he did that. If we were playing poker, it would be one of his tells,  meaning he was on the edge of losing all control. 

I picked up his hand and kissed the inside of his palm. “Right back atcha, baby.” 

“Come on, we’ve got lunch then a full day of activity ahead of us.” He tugged my hand and helped me to standing. 

Not knowing where we were going, I’d worn a pair of ass-hugging jeans with some strategic holes in the thigh and knee. They fit me like a second skin, and every time I wore them, my husband couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off my ass. Another reason these jeans were my fave. 

I’d paired the jeans with a simple white halter top that tied at the neck. It had these overly long ribbons that ran down my back. Over the top of the look, I wore a chunky cable sweater. Hidden under a rockin’ pair of swede booties with a two-inch heel were a pair of Valentine’s Day socks. That was my first gift. Wes knew and appreciated my affinity for themed socks and regularly encouraged my insanity.  

My gift to him was a good morning blow job where I’d put my Hoover-like skills to the test. Needless to say, my husband was impressed. Even happier when I handed him a pair of Valentine’s Day boxer briefs that had “Property of Mia” on the ass.

Without delay, he’d slipped those briefs on and presented me with his fine cotton-clad ass. I squeezed his cheeks and then smacked his firm behind…hard. 

“Ouch! You like?” He’d shimmied his ass like a backstage dancer in one of my buddy Anton’s rap videos. 

I had to admit, he had some serious moves. “I love.” I grinned and proceeded to the shower. 

Wes brought me back to the here and now where we were sitting on the tarmac in a rented plane. He gripped my chin, turned my face toward him, and laid a quick smack-a-roo on my lips. 

“Welcome to San Francisco, sweetheart.” 

“San Francisco!” I whooped and jumped up and down before tackling him in and upright hug. “I’ve wanted to go to San Fran!” 

He smiled so huge I could see all of his pearly whites. “I know. Let’s go. We’ve got a lunch date with a view waiting.” 

***

We debarked, and a wicked hot black Porsche Cayman sat on the tarmac. A man handed Wes the keys. Wes exchanged a few words with him, something about seeing him tomorrow, opened the passenger door for me, and put our small bag in the trunk. Then we were off! 

I watched the view of the Pacific Ocean and the city as it passed by. Content to just go with the flow and let my husband lead, I sat back and relaxed. Before too long, we’d pulled up to a white rectangular building with the words “Cliff House” on a riser at the top. If I had to guess, I’d say the building was old but had been renovated as the white paint on the outside was pristine. The restaurant sat on the edge of a cliff. Literally. If I didn’t know any better, I would think half of the place levitated over the sea. 

We got out of the car and Wes grabbed my hand. I yanked at his to stop him from rushing into the restaurant. I wanted a moment enjoying the ocean with him. He got the hint when he pulled up behind me, wrapped his arms around my body, his chest to my back, and snuggled into my neck. 

“Beautiful huh?” I said. We looked out at the Pacific Ocean every day, but here it was different. Darker blue, and the wind colder than down south. 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” he murmured into my neck before planting a line of kisses from the bottom where my shoulder started all the way up to that sensitive space behind my ear. 

The area between my thighs throbbed at the gentle caress. I tightened my hands over his forearms and leaned back, knowing my husband would keep me upright. 

“You’d better be careful. You’re stroking the beast, and you know how cagey that bitch in heat gets for you.” 

He laughed into my ear, pulled back, and smacked my ass. “Come, you sex pot. You’ll get yours…later. I promise.” 

I pouted but let him lead me in, more than eager to follow him wherever he planned to go. 

The restaurant was absolutely lush. Every seat had a view, and each table filled with patrons—except one, in the farthest corner with the most fantastic view. Windows from floor to ceiling met at a ninety degree angle, giving the customers a complete view of the ocean and cliffs below. Rocks jutted out below the restaurant like sentinels guarding the building. The oceans waves crashed against them, creating a frothy white burst that disappeared almost as quickly as it hit. 

“This is unbelievable,” I whispered, my eyes glued to the view. 

Wes lifted my hand from where it sat on top of the table and held it to his lips. “Wait until you try the clam chowder. It’s to die for.” 

“I don’t even need the menu. Order me whatever you think I’ll like. I trust you.” 

Wes smirked and proceeded to order drinks, a seafood appetizer to start, and then bread bowls of the world class clam chowder. 

He did not lie. The soup… To. Die. For. While we ate, Wes frowned and looked out over the ocean. 

“What’s up, babe?” I asked. 

He shrugged, wiped his mouth, and leaned back in his chair. “You remember how we talked about the movie and what I wanted to do with it?” 

I nodded and slurped the awesomeness that was the clam chowder. Creamy, with just the right ratio of soup to clams. Divine. 

“I thought a lot about what you said. Making the movie about something more. I got everyone’s buy in. We’re starting up the Honor Code Foundation. It will offer the families who lost someone to tragedy a place to get some help. Funds to help with food, shelter, bills, even college tuition grants.” 

My smile at his news had to be huge because it hurt the sides of my cheeks. “Wes…” I gasped, emotion clogging my throat the same way trying to speak around a mouth full of cotton would. “That’s incredible. I’m proud of you for making the decision and finding something you could live with.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I called each family member left behind from the crew that we lost. Spoke to the person they loved most in the world. Talked to them about the concept and how all the proceeds from the film, aside from production expenses, would go to the Foundation. And you know what?” 

I placed my elbows on the white linen and leaned into my hands, waiting with bated breath for his next words. 

“They were all for it. Every single last person cried, and get this…they thanked me. Thanked me for doing something good out of such a tragedy.” He shook his head. The skin around his eyes crinkled. “They thanked me, Mia. And I was the reason they lost their loved ones.” 

In a second flat, I moved my chair to the point where our knees touched. I cupped both his cheeks and looked intently into his glassy and tortured eyes. “Baby, listen to me. You know you are not the reason they died. They chose that job. They chose individually to film with you and agreed with your idea and choice of location. Everyone was on board. The radicals that hurt those men and women have to answer to God for what they did. Not you. Do you hear me?” 

He nodded, but his body language said he didn’t take in what I’d said 

“No, really hear me. You need to let this go, baby. It’s not your cross to bear.” 

He cringed and leaned his forehead against mine. “Thank you.” He sighed.

 “For what, baby?” I whispered against his face. 

“For being you. For knowing all of me and loving me anyway.”

The conversation was far deeper than anything we should have been having at this place, on this day, and in this location, but it needed to come out. I rubbed my forehead against his, cupped his prickly jaw, and kissed him. I put as much healing energy, love, and hope into that kiss, any onlookers be damned. This was my husband, and he was hurting. As his wife, my job was to heal him. 

Eventually it worked, because he wrapped those big muscled arms around me and kissed the life right out of me. 

The waiter came over to us while we were in our serious lip lock and cleared his throat. Wes pulled back only an inch from my face. 

“Check please,” he said and went back to kissing me. 

***

Our next stop stole my breath. Wes parked the lender Porsche at a shoulder of a mountain. Yep, I said a mountain. We’d crossed the Golden Gate Bridge over the water, wound our way up the side, and stopped at a perfect lookout point. There he jumped out of the car. The wind whipped his hair all around in a crazy tangle. This did not bode well for my own lengthy locks, so I grabbed the rubber band around my wrist and put my hair into a quick ponytail. 

Wes opened my door with the excitement of a child raring to go to his first time at an amusement park. Except we weren’t at an amusement park. We were out in the open, overlooking the entire city of San Francisco. I held my husband’s hand as he brought me to the railing. Again, he stood behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into him and took in this new view. The Golden Gate Bridge stood in all its glory over the San Francisco Bay, its red beams gleaming in the midday sunlight. A layer of fog still wisped along the choppy waters below it, giving it an ethereal, whimsical vibe. 

“How did you know about this place?” I cuddled more purposefully into his back. 

He held me tighter and leaned in toward my neck, getting close to my ear. Wes enjoyed standing at my back and holding me. This was his preferred stance when we were close. Something about him having my back firmed up the notion that he’d always have my back, a trait I appreciated more than I was willing to admit about this particular pasttime of his.  

Wes pressed his cold nose into the warm skin of my neck. A shiver rippled down my spine. 

“I’d seen the images from this angle in countless photos. So I did some research and found out that all you had to do was take the Marin Headlands exit and follow it up the hill to the different lookouts. Do you like it?” 

 “It’s perfect. I’ll always remember this.” 

“You mean you’ll always remember me,” he said. 

I grinned and rolled my eyes. He couldn’t see that from behind me, but I’m sure he felt the chuckle reverberate through me and the movement of my face. “Cheesy!” 

“It is not!” He kissed my cheek. “It’s our thing.” 

“Being cheesy is our thing?” I turned to look into his eyes. In the sunlight, they glowed a startling emerald green. Every day I wondered how I had become so blessed. To have this man in my life, protecting me, committed to me—it blew me away. I’d never take it for granted. 

This time he smirked before turning me in his arm so we faced one another. His features turned soft, his eyes shimmering with light and love. 

“You know, it sounds cliché, but you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Who would have thought when my mother set up me up with an escort to get the hounds off my tail that I’d fall for her?” 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned back so I could take in all that was my Wes. Everything about him defied reality. Handsome, smart, rich, built, kind-hearted, and best of all, he loved me. Really loved me in a way that I didn’t think I’d ever fully comprehend. 

“Wes, you filled me up,” I whispered.

A solicitous grin slipped across his lips. 

I smacked his chest. “Don’t be dirty.” 

He responded through his laughter. “You’re being dirty. You’re the one who said I filled you up.” 

I clasped my hands more firmly around his neck so he’d feel me, truly feel me. “Being serious, you did. You filled up all the weak spots, layered cement and plaster over the broken cracks in my heart, and showed me how to love again. How to be loved.”  

As I said it, I thought more about it. Alec, my Frenchman, had taught me how to love myself last year, but Wes, the man I committed to spending the rest of my life with, taught me the value of loving another completely and with my whole being.

Wes tightened his hold on me. “Sweetheart…I think we taught each other.” 

He was right. We did teach each other. 

***

Cuddled into one another, Wes and I stayed up on the mountain looking at the city and the bridge, making out, just newlyweds being in love. We spent a good hour enjoying our time before he twirled me around and said we had an appointment we had to make.

He drove like he was Mario Andretti through the city and into Berkeley, the college town known for being filled with granola-crunching tree-huggers and hippies. At least that’s how I thought of it. Wes drove onto Telegraph Street where local vendors sold their artesian wares. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and sample the unique items. 

“Can we look at the vendors? I wouldn’t mind buying a memento for the house.” 

He smiled, grabbed my hand, and brought it to his lips. “We’ve got about forty minutes to spare, and then we have to go.” 

I hoped out of the car and bustled over to the nearest vendor selling pottery. Each piece called out to me to touch it, run my fingers down their handmade edges. The textures and color palates were bold and enchanting. Wes sidled up to me and looked at a couple pieces before he kissed my cheek and moved to the next vendor. 

Before our forty minutes were up, I had an arm full of bags. Homemade beaded bracelets and earrings I scored for Ginelle, Maddy, and Cyndi. A cool horseshoe that had been painted and etched with California on one side for Max. Another vendor made unique dolls and animals that I purchased for Max’s kids. But the best piece was the handcrafted stained-glass vase I bought for our home. It would be perfect on the dining room table. 

“You ready, sweetheart? We’re here.” 

I stopped where I stood in front of a vendor that sold crystals and looked around. Telegraph Tattoo was behind me, an Eastern Indian store that had sari fabrics to the left, and a pizzeria called Fat Slice on the right. I narrowed my eyes. “Where here?” 

He hooked a thumb behind him at the tattoo parlor. “Come on.” 

“Honey, I don’t get it.” I slid my hand into his. 

Wes clasped my hand tight and led me up the stairs. The second I entered I knew something was up. 

I did not believe my eyes when they locked onto the woman walking my way. “Mask! Oh my God! What are you doing here?” I hugged the small Asian woman who I’d met in Washington DC and had done my foot tattoo. Her lips were a startling red, hair still firmly pinned into a chic bun at the base of her neck. “I’d planned on coming to see you to add to my tat when I was on the East Coast.” 

She smiled bright. “Your husband mentioned that you wanted to finish it, but I’d moved. My boyfriend owns this place. I’d been planning to move the second I got a ring on my finger.” She lifted up her hand and wiggled her finger. A square diamond sparkled under the track lighting. 

“Right on.” I held her hand and inspected the ring. 

Wes placed his hand on my hip, curling me into his side. “Surprise. Now you can finish your tattoo. And I’m scheduled for mine with her boyfriend.” 

I swung around and braced my hands against his firm pecs. “You’re getting a tattoo?” Fire lit in my belly and licked out to curve around my spine in a sensual caress. The idea of my man getting some sexy ink on his pristine golden body made my mouth water. 

He grinned and tugged me closer so our chests touched. My nipples tightened and peaked to attention. I brushed them against him once in calculated move he knew very well. His eyes gleamed as he cupped my cheeks. 

“Yes, I’m getting some ink.” He grinned and licked his lip. 

I wanted to lick that lip. Badly. I focused on that moist bit of skin and then looked up at Wes, debating my next move. “What are you getting?” 

He tunneled his fingers deeper into my hair. “A tree of life. I’m going to put the initials of the men we lost on their own branch so I’ll have a physical reminder. I don’t want to ever forget them.” 

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, lifting up onto my tiptoes to brush my lips against his before setting my cheek to his. He burrowed his face into my neck—a familiar gesture I knew well. He was grounding himself with me. I’d be that for him. His stability. I’d be anything for him. 

“Baby…” I whispered. “I think it’s a beautiful idea.” 

“Yeah?” His words were gravelly. 

I nodded, gave him one more quick lip press, and then backed up. “Let’s do this. We’re ready, Mask.” 

***

Back at the hotel, I soaked in a tub filled to the brim with bubbles. I left one foot dangling out since the tattoo artist told me not to soak it for the next couple weeks. Still, after a busy and rather emotional day, I needed the mental relief. I moved my foot to the side, hiked it up, and crossed it over my knee so I could inspect the ink. It hadn’t taken Mask long to add the extra petals with the new initials. Intertwined in the wisp of dandelion wishes, I had her add Max spelled out for my brother and Mad spelled out for my sister. Then I had “LL” for Latin Lov-ah, and Gin for my favorite bitch and BFF for life, Ginelle. As the years went on, there would be more initials to add of people who affected my life, but for now, these additions were the most important. 

Wes trailed into the bathroom, and I rose my eyebrows. He winked and smirked as he stood like a sun god in front of the vanity, running his fingers through his dark blond layers. Holy hell, my husband was something to behold. I licked my lips and took in all that was mine to have, hold, and cherish. Wes washed his hands, and I watched as if he were giving me a personal show. He stood before the sink in nothing but the Valentine’s Day joke boxers I’d bought him. Visible right on the ass was the silly wording I’d chosen, claiming that fine ass as my property. I grinned and bit into my lip. 

“You got a little drool slipping down your lip there, sweetheart.” 

He had a shit-eating grin on his face. I decided I’d stare my fill, and I did. His body was male perfection. Long, muscled legs and thighs met up with a tapered waist. That perfect V that made every woman stupid was marred only by the smattering of hair that trailed into his boxers. His chest, oh, man, I could write a thousand poems about his chest. Hell, I should do a segment on male beauty for Dr. Hoffman and use my husband as the model. 

The second that thought hit, I obliterated it with a mental shotgun. No way was I going to let millions of women swoon over my man. They did that enough already with the pictures the horn-dog paparazzi scored of him. It had slowed down a bit since his captivity, but Gina Deluca disappearing from the silver screen had not helped. Even Wes didn’t know where she was. The woman up and left with notes left for the important people in her life, stating that she was going to go away for a while to find herself. Now that concept I understood. My dad had done the same thing. In my dad’s case it was a shit cowardly move. In Gina’s…well, I wasn’t going to say it didn’t make me happy that she and Wes weren’t hanging around one another every day. I might be his wife, but that didn’t change the fact that prior to their tragic experience in Indonesia, they’d been an item. And since I have a man that looks like my husband, I do what I need to do to in order to keep him interested in me and only me. Period. No shame in my game. 

“Mia, I mean it. You keep looking at me like I’m your next tasty treat, and I’m going to do something about it.” His voice was a hardened grumble.

Instead of cooling my jets, I decided I’d rather play dirty. Besides, I was in a bubble bath not made for two when I considered our sizes.

Wes tipped his head to the side and then turned around, leaning his ass up against the edge of the vanity. “You think I’m kidding.” 

I pouted and shook my head demurely. “No, baby, I don’t.” While I had his attention, I lifted both my hands and touched my clavicle, swirling my index fingers along the bone. 

“Mia…” he growled. 

His stance and the tightening of his fists told me he was paying close attention to my hand placement. 

“Hmm?” I closed my eyes and dragged my hands down to cover my breasts. My nipples peaked between my sudsy fingers. I sighed, simultaneously tweaking each tip. 

“Fuck,” Wes said between clenched teeth, his jaw tight. 

I closed my eyes again and let one hand slip down my ribs over my belly and toward the heavy ache between my thighs. My lower lips were slippery even under the water when I cupped myself. “Oh…mmm,” I moaned. 

The labored echo of Wes’s harsh breaths filled the room. I chanced a glance his way, and an instant zap of arousal ripped through my core. As I looked my fill of his masculine beauty, I pushed two fingers deep into my pussy and cried out. 

Wes groaned. His cock was thick, large, and so damned erect, He wrapped his hand around the steely length and stroked it up and down. A drop of pre-cum glistened on the tip, and I needed so badly to taste that pearl of his excitement more than I wanted my own release, which wasn’t too far off on the horizon. 

“Baby please…” I choked out, pleasure consuming my vocal cords, the plea making me sound like a sex-starved vixen. 

In two strides, Wes strode to the bath, bent down and pulled me out, one arm hooked under my knees the other around my back. Water sluiced down my body in bubbly rivulets as he lifted me out. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Within moments, Wes had my wet ass on the granite counter top, my legs spread wide, and his lips on mine. He cupped me at the neck and slid a hand  between my legs  until he entered me and was there. Right fucking there, and it was good. So God damned good. I gasped as he used two fingers to spread my lower lips wider. His cock notched further inside bringing him even deeper. It worked. Oh, sweet mother of all things holy, it worked. 

“You little tease, I’m going to fuck you so hard, wear your pussy out so you’ll know exactly what happens when you play with your husband like that.” He pulled back until just the tip of his dick was inside and then thrust. Hard. At the same time he jackknifed his hips up, he pushed both cheeks of my ass forward, pinning me on his cock. 

I screamed out to God, Wes, the tiled walls, anything that would listen as he rode me. My ass squeaked and slid against the counter. He used the leverage to fuck me faster, the soap from my bath adding the extra lubricant to easily glide me on and off his cock. 

The animalistic, carnal noises coming from my husband spurred me on, making me dizzy with lust. Colors blinked behind my eyelids, and I did the only thing I could do when Wes got wild for me. I held on. 

Each thrust was earth-shattering, every withdrawal mind-altering, until my mind shifted and I rested in the space where there was only joy, love, and pleasure. Wes was the only man who had ever taken me to such pleasurable heights. I didn’t even know how to describe if I’d tried. 

Wes grunted against my neck. “Give it to me, Mia. Don’t you dare hold back on me. I want it now…all over me, baby. Give. Me. Your. Release.” 

He bit down on the sensitive flesh of my neck as his hips hammered home, obliterating all thoughts aside from him. I was wrapped up in my husband, riding a magnificent orgasm. All was right in Mia Land. 

I shifted my hips and gave him what he wanted. A flood of heat surged through my insides as Wes planted his hips flat against my sex. One of his arms held my ass to the edge of the vanity as the other crossed my back and cupped the back of my head so I didn’t smack my head into the mirror. My entire body went tight. I locked my legs around his hips and held him to me as the waves of his release rocked through him. Fucking beautiful. 

For the better part of five minutes, Wes shifted his hips in leisure movements, his dick still half hard inside. Little tremors rippled over my pores and out my fingertips with each press of skin to skin. That’s when the kissing started. When my husband thought he fucked me too hard or went too far in our love making, he’d taken to worshiping me with loving, kisses, and soft caresses afterward. I didn’t complain because he kissed me everywhere. Down each arm where he nipped and sucked each fingertip and back up the inside of my arm where he spent some attention on my neck, down my chest, and over each breast. He used his hands to massage any tension from my thighs, hips, and back until I was as loose as a noodle. 

I lay against the mirror as Wes turned on the hot water and warmed up a washcloth. He cleaned between my legs. I shivered with aftershocks while he tended to me. God, my man was sweet. Handsome, kind, rugged, casually cool, manly, a great provider, a loving husband, but I adored when his animal came out because it was always followed by the sweet worshiping side. I loved all sides of my husband, and now more than ever I needed to show it. 

When he tossed the washcloth into the sink, I rose and wrapped my hands around his neck, used the heels of both feet to encourage him closer so I could plaster myself against him. “I love you, Wes. I couldn’t have wished for a more perfect man for me.”

Wes closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. “Mia, the way I love you…” He shook his head. “You’re it for me. Until we’re old and gray.” 

I grinned. “You’re it for me, too. Now that you’ve got me all sated and sleepy, what are you going to do with me?” 

My belly took that instance to growl loudly. 

Wes chuckled and kissed my nose. “Well, since we fed my beast, I think it’s time to feed you, eh?” 

I laughed and tugged him closer to my naked body, a chill working its way down my spine. “I love your beast as much as I love you.” 

My husband locked his hands around my ass and carried me into our suite where he let me slide down his body. His cock stirred, and I pointed at it. 

“Hey, mister. You got yours,” I mock scolded.   

Wes held up a cream-colored satin robe with large arms. “Did you just chastise my dick?” He grinned. 

“Hey, someone has to. That thing has a mind of its own, and I’m starving. Should we order room service, or did you plan to go out?” 

Wes turned to the closet, dropped his Valentine’s briefs to the floor, and I bit down on my knuckle at the sight of his ass. A bit lighter than the rest of him, as he spent a lot of time in the ocean covered in board shorts or a wet suit, but still so damn scrumptious. While I ruminated on Wes’s fine ass, he tugged on a pair of black satin pajama bottoms. Looked like I wasn’t the only one going lux this evening. 

“I ordered us room service already. Filet, potatoes, and veggies, and your favorite wine. Come on, it’s already set up.” 

He led me into the living space of the large suite where a table was all decked out with place settings, flowers, and crystal stemware. Sporadically around the room sat glowing candles in varying shapes and sizes. 

I looked at it all in awe. “When did you do all this?” 

He smiled. “Sweetheart, you were in the bath a long time. Come.” 

He held out his hand and pulled out the seat of my chair. Then he poured me a very hearty amount of garnet-colored wine. The bottle said Rombauer Vineyards Zinfandel. It wasn’t the most expensive by far, probably only fifty bucks, which to me was an insane amount of money for a single bottle. He called it table wine but didn’t haggle me for my lack of pedigree. If anything, I think my man relished it. He liked that I was the type of girl who would just as easily drive through Taco Bell than sit down to a five hundred dollar dinner. 

Once he got settled in his chair, I noticed he’d taken off the cellophane the tattoo artist had put over his forearm where the black-and-green tattoo was needled into his body for life. When he sat, I grabbed his hand and turned it so that I could see ink. The tree of life started at his elbow with spindly roots of thin black lines. Within those lines at the base of the tree was Mia scrawled in bold black lettering. I’d told him my worry about having one another’s names on our bodies being the kiss of death, and he’d just laughed. He said when his thoughts were straying and he needed a reminder of what was important in life, he wanted to look at his tree and see me at the root of life. Because to him, I was his reason for living. The base of all that was important to him. He also believed I was the reason he made it out of tragedy alive. 

I lightly traced my name with just my finger tip. The ridges of skin were raised as they were on mine. The trunk of the tree was wide and went up the forearm where branches weaved out. Each branch held the initials of a man he’d lost. A friend he’d lost. Beautiful green-and-black leaves intermingled with the branches. The artist had added dots of yellow, orange, and red to the leaves to give it small bursts of color. 

“It’s really intricate and detailed. Are you happy with it?” I asked. 

Wes’s eyes were hooded, sad. “Yeah, but not happy about why I have it.” 

“That’s understandable. I think it’s a powerful tribute.” I leaned forward and pressed tiny kisses all over the newly scarred flesh. 

And that was that. I didn’t want to give any more credence to the grief and heartache we’d gone through. Valentine’s Day was for lovers. At least that’s what I’d always heard. This was my first one with my husband, and so far the day had been beyond compare. 

I leaned back, allowing the robe to show my bare legs all the way up to my crotch. Wes’s gaze caught the movement and seemed to caress the open expanse of skin from the tip of my toe to the heat at my center with just a single look. 

Wanting to get my man’s attention off the nakedness beneath my robe, at least for the time being, I raised my glass. Wes followed suit. 

“So what should we drink to?” I asked. 

“For once, let’s just drink to us. Be completely selfish and make this day and as many as we have to come about you and me. Let’s promise to always put one another and our marriage before anything else.” 

I looked into his eyes, seeing all the love these past several weeks had brought upon us, and smiled. “I couldn’t agree with you more. To us, baby.”