Blame it on me

16

All seventy-two.

When Austin stirs beneath her, Zia's heart sinks. This is it-he's going to push her off, sit up, pretend nothing happened. The warmth will be gone, and all she'll have is the ache of the memory.

But instead, his hand drifts up to her bicep, his touch light and lingering. He shifts, guiding her gently off his chest until she slides beside him. Then, with a soft grunt, he rolls them both onto their sides, facing each other.

"Morning, sleepy head," she whispers, searching his face.

"Morning," he murmurs, voice gravelly. "This mattress is pure hell."

"I think it's a little piece of heaven," she replies softly, her lips tilting into a shy smile.

Austin shifts, just enough to look down at her properly. There's a tired softness in his eyes, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth. Then he leans in and presses a slow, warm kiss to her forehead.

Zia squeaks-actually squeaks-her heart nearly rocketing out of her chest with the force of surprise and excitement.

"You would think that, sweet thing," he murmurs near her hairline.

And then-"Turn around."

Her smile falters. Turn around? She doesn't want to turn away from him. Not now, not when they're like this. But she nods and does as he says, slowly and awkwardly, the mattress hissing and sinking beneath her weight. It takes longer than it should-her limbs uncoordinated, the air bed unsteady. She fumbles and nearly gets stuck halfway.

Austin sighs with a sleepy chuckle and helps her along, guiding her hips until she's settled with her back against his chest.

And then he wraps an arm around her middle, pulling her in, fitting himself around her like it's the most natural thing in the world.

What now? she wonders, her pulse drumming loud in her ears.

But she doesn't move. Doesn't speak. She just closes her eyes and lets the moment hold her.

She watches as he lifts his hand, his movements slow and deliberate in the quiet morning light. One by one, he slips off his thick, chunky rings with the hand beneath her head, careful not to jostle her. Each ring clinks softly against the floor as he tosses them beside the mattress, the sound oddly intimate, like a quiet ritual.

But one ring remains.

His wedding band.

He doesn't even touch it.

He never does-not once in all the time they've been married. She's never seen him without it, not even when they fought, not even when the distance between them felt unbearable. It stays there, always, a silent promise etched in metal, resting against the base of his finger like it belongs there.

Her breath catches as he slides the last of the others free, then dips one hand under the blanket while the other curls around her shoulders, drawing her close against his chest.

There's a weight to the silence between them-comfortable, charged-and her heart skips as she waits, every nerve suddenly alive beneath his touch.

"Mornings with you have a sweetness to them..." he whispers in her ear as she feels his hand dip into her shorts. "The air smells fresh..." he whispers,his breath warm against her neck, his fingers sliding over her skin and then down between her thighs. "Simply put, sweet thing ...there is no better way to wake up," he whispers then sinks his teeth gently into her nack making her whimper as he pushes her leg up and over his waiting knee. "If I were a better man..." he whispers dancing his fingers slowly up her inner thigh, up over her body, lingering at her nipples, and then to her mouth. "Suck," he whispers pushing two fingers into her mouth and Zia wets them as best she can. Austin's hands are big - no matter how many times he plays with her like this she always needs extra lubrication. "Mhmm, yes. If I were a better man..." he says taking his fingers from her mouth and moving his hand down her body again and then hovering it just over the folds between her open thighs. "I would have the willpower to resist you..." he whispers, cupping one of her breast with the other hand. Her breathing labors, her anticipation rising. "But, I have no will power when it comes to you," he whispers, his voice deep. Then, without warning he catches her nipple between his fingers, rolling it as he plunges a finger into her, pushing it in deep, causing her to whimper as she opens her legs just a little more while he searches vigorously for her spot - the palm of his hand rubbing against her nub.