him a generous fifty percent tip and scribbled my signature.
Then I met my wife’s warm gaze.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Daphne
We didn’t make it back to the room.
Darkness had fallen, and as we walked around the back of the gorgeous brick building, we spied several couples cuddling on the wooden benches situated in the green courtyard.
I pulled Brad toward an unoccupied bench. “Let’s sit.”
“I can’t do what I want to do to you out here,” he said.
“Please. I want to sit here and make out like the other couples. I want to feel young again.”
“We are young, baby.”
He wasn’t wrong. I was thirty-one and he was thirty-five. But we’d been yanked out of our young adulthood by an unplanned pregnancy thirteen years ago. We hadn’t had the luxury of those first years together without children—getting to know each other while we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.
We’d never made out on a bench.
“Please?”
He cupped my cheek, thumbing it softly. “I’ve never been able to say no to you. I suppose kissing you won’t be so bad.”
I turned my head slightly and kissed his warm palm. “Ha ha. I’ll make it worth your while later.”
“You don’t have to make a deal, Daphne. If sitting on a bench and kissing will make you happy, I’ll gladly participate.” He sat down on the hard wood bench and pulled me close.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Have I ever told you how amazing your lips are?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure you have.”
“I’ve been remiss, then. You have the fullest, darkest, most kissable lips I’ve ever seen on a man. Including the best-looking models and celebrities. Your lips are works of art.” I moved one hand away from my neck and trailed my index finger over his top lip and then his bottom. “So perfect.”
He puckered his lips and kissed the tip of my finger.
Then he cupped both my cheeks and brought his lips to mine.
“I love that,” I said against his lips.
“What?”
“When you hold my face.”
“Oh?”
“It makes me feel so cherished.”
“You are cherished, baby.”
“I know. Even when you’re gone all the time, I know that, Brad. I never forget.”
I shouldn’t have brought up him being gone a lot. He couldn’t help it, and he was doing his best for our family. I didn’t want him to think about work right now. I wanted him fully in the moment. In this moment. With me.
I wanted an amazing night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.
One way to make myself stop talking?
I covered his mouth with mine.
How long had it been since I’d kissed my husband like this? How I’d missed his warm mouth, his silky tongue, his full lips. Yeah, this making out on a bench thing had been a great idea.
Too many times in the past few years, our lovemaking had been hurried. He’d overlooked kissing me, holding me.
I’d done the same.
We’d make up for all of that tonight.
His bulge was apparent, and I knew what he wanted. I needed more tonight, though. I needed to be held. To be kissed. To be appreciated.
Our kiss was soft but passionate. Though neither of us held back, we both remained aware of our surroundings. This was a time to enjoy each other. To not rush into the act itself, but to remember all the desire and passion of the time we first met.
I still felt that same passion for Brad. I always would.
A groan hummed from Brad’s throat as he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer. Kissing Brad was heaven. Pure heaven.
How long we sat there in each other’s arms, our mouths fused together, I couldn’t say.
When we finally stopped our make-out session, all the other couples on nearby benches had disappeared.
He trailed his lips over my neck, over the tops of my breasts. “Looks like we outlasted everyone else. They’re all in bed now, making furious love to each other.”
“Mmm. I’m looking forward to that,” I said, “but I wouldn’t trade what just happened for anything in the world.”
“Truthfully, neither would I. I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Why?”
“I’ve neglected you. I haven’t seen to your most basic needs. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Oh, Brad.” I touched his cheek, loving his prickly stubble against my fingertips. “I’ve neglected you too. I’m always so tired in the evenings.”
“Being a mother isn’t easy,” he said.
“Neither is being a rancher. This isn’t all your fault. It’s mine, too.”
I hadn’t been fair to Brad. He worked so hard for us. Yes, the boys and I missed him desperately, but we were always in