He looked sad. So damn sad and weighted. The ecstasy and the fog of excitement were lifting as he pulled in several breaths and studied me.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he eventually whispered, shaking his head. “I amsofucking sorry.”
I held his gaze, not allowing him to abandon me now. Not after what we’d just done together. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”
“I get lost easily.”
Shifting under him, I inhaled as deeply as I could, unwilling to lose the connection between our bodies yet. Tangling my legs in his, I took the time to get my words in order.
The weeks since we’d lost Harry had been hard, but watching Drew dig a hole to bury himself in had been harder. That didn’t mean that every pain I’d been through hadn’t been worth it to have this moment with him.
To have him back.
“Are you serious about getting married, Drew?”
He scowled, but only for a second. “Deadly.”
“Are you serious about it being soon?”
“We should be married already. It’s my fault you’ve had to wait.”
I stroked his cheek again and smiled as my lips brushed against his. “You did what you had to do. But… do you think we could get one of the boys ordained online?”
Drew’s smirk broke free. “You have low standards for a high-quality piece of ass, you know that, darlin’?”
My giggle came easier than it had in weeks. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he said through a groan as he slowly pulled out of me and repositioned himself, breathing a heavy sigh over my chest. His arms trapped me in on either side, and he pressed his body down on mine. “It means aim higher, Ayda. Do the bridal magazine shit you’ve been dreaming of. Big dress. Too many flowers. Make me step up and deliver what you deserve. Don’t do what you’re planning to do just to get me down the aisle quicker. You deserve more than grease-soaked boots and Deeks stumbling over our vows, and it’s about time you realized it.” Drew’s thumbs brushed the apples of both my cheeks. “It’s about time I reminded you, too. Harry would fucking kill me if I rushed this through, even if I’d marry you right now with a priest hanging over my naked ass.” His face twisted in pain as Harry’s name passed throughhis lips. “We can do it quickly, but let’s do it right.”
“Jesus, every single one of the whores out there is jealous of me already. If only they knew how thoughtful you are when there’s no one else watching.” I ran my hands through his hair and scratched his scalp with my nails. “I love that you want a big wedding with all the bells and whistles for me, but all I care about is that you’re my husband.” I dropped my eyes from his and smiled. “And that I’m your wife. Mrs. Ayda Tucker.” I snorted, my cheeks heating as a wave of absurd shyness rolled over me.
“Mrs. Ayda Tucker.” His smile grew slowly. “You sure you can handle that?”
I hummed. “What, do you want to be Mr. Drew Hanagan? Mix up convention and take on my name instead? That’s very progressive of you.”
“That depends. Would you rather me fuck you like I’m big, bad Tucker, or fuck you like I’m Mr. Hanagan?”
I threw a leg over his hip, my toes pushing his ass closer against me. “Point taken. Mrs. Tucker it is.”
I pushed up on my elbows and looked down on our bodies twisted together. I wasn’t looking for anything aside from the blankets now. The room was beginning to cool down, and the sweat on my body was speeding it along, even with my Drew blanket on.
“Although, I should remind you that I was just as much a part of the fucking today as you were.”
“You’re always the bullet, darlin’. I’m just the gun that needs pointing in the right direction.” Drew winked at me. Something he hadn’t done in so long, and the action was so simple, he hadn’t even realized its significance, but the small smile that followed that wink said enough for me.
I brushed my sweaty hair from my face, my aching body starting to complain at the exertion of the old war wounds that I actually found myself coveting now. I looked over at him again and met his eyes. “What now?”
“Get this blood off me,” he said, his smile fading quickly. “I need to do something gentle with you. I need to wash you, and have you wash me.”
“We can do that. Then would you sleep with me tonight?”Hold me like you’re never going to let go, I added silently.
“And every night after that.” He pinched my chin between his finger and thumb. “I meant what I said, Ayda. I’m sorry.”
I knew he meant it because I could see it. I may not have been able to clarify that to anyone else. How could I possibly explain the depth of the man behind those blue-green eyes when he was present? Or the absence of him when he was in the deepest depths of his grief? That knowledge was just something that was there within me, and it was something that I would never take for granted again.
Drew took charge, rolling from the bed and pulling me with him across the room. He sat me on the sink as he started the water, kissing my neck and shoulders with reverence as he waited for the water to heat up before he helped me inside the shower.
We took our time washing one another, our hands wandering over wet, soapy flesh. It was less frenetic than the last time we'd been in there together but no less needy. Drew spent a while exploring my bruises, his touch gentle as he placed his hands over his own fingerprints, his lips even softer as they brushed over them in silent apology. I did the same. I wasn't sure which bruises on his body had been issued by me, but I explored them all and left the same silent apologies hehad.