I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
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Two months later
The blaring alarm known as Pigsley's squeal goes off, bringing me out of my peaceful sleep like a donkey kick to the chest. My eyes snap open and my heart races. You'd think after months of this, I'd be used to it by now, but nope. Not even a little bit.
"That pig is out to kill us all, and he isn't discreet about his intentions in the least," Daniel mumbles with a groggy groan. His warm, muscled arm tightens around my waist as he wakes from behind me. "By the way, good morning, beautiful."
He kisses my neck, sending excited little butterflies to take flight in my tummy. I love how gravelly his voice is in the morning. It's something I've grown quite fond of over the last few weeks. For most of our marriage, I never got to hear Daniel's awake voice because I was already in the kitchen making his breakfast.
"Good morning," I say with a sleepy smile, snuggling deeper into his spoon. "Did you sleep well?"
"So much so that I don't want to get out of bed." He kisses my neck again. "But, work calls. I have an early meeting today in the city and can't be late." With a huff, he squeezes me closer for a moment before rolling away and turning on the table light by his bedside.
I roll onto my back admiring his ever-changing physique while he stretches with a deep yawn. I have to say, I love what I see. Daniel has always been a physically attractive man. The word "handsome" doesn't even come close to describing him. Although I never had much to complain about when it came to being physically attracted to him, his time on the farm has only made that attraction grow. His muscles have become more defined. His sun-kissed skin from working in the sun gives him a masculine glow that I can't help but drool over. Don't even get me started on the rough, calloused hands. Oof. Lucy was right about men and callouses. My cheeks heat just thinking about him and those hands of his.
Nope. Think of other things, Lottie.
Resisting this man has become an Olympic sport in self-discipline. It's been two months since we went on our first real date and a month since I finally agreed to let him move into my cabin with me. We haven't moved further than sharing the same bed and many--MANY--intimate kisses. There's a part of me that yearns to move forward with him, to fully forgive him and let go of the broken foundation of our past. But, there's still a part of me that holds a great deal of doubts where we're concerned. So much of our previous relationship was based only on a physical connection. I guess, part of me thinks I'm protecting myself by keeping us from going there again.
"Lottie," he says, breaking me from my thoughts. "Did you hear me?"
My eyes snap up to his and I shake my head, blushing slightly. He knowingly smirks, and I know he's caught me staring at him in hunger again.
Darn it.
"All you have to do is ask, my little Lottie-Girl. I won't hesitate to have you in my arms again to devour you. The ball is entirely in your court." He winks before walking away into the bathroom as I sink into the bed--part in shame and part in need.
