“That doesn’t make you sick, Grace. That makes you strong.” He kisses me again and then stands up and walks out of the plunge pool. My body gets heavy and I immediately want nothing more than to get back in the water and hide underneath its soothing surface.

Vaughn walks us over to the edge of the river, grabbing a towel from the little cabana as he goes. He tosses it down on the concrete edge and then places me on top of it. My leg hurts a little now and my clothes are sticking to me. “Lift up your arms.”

I do as I’m told and he peels off the man-sized white t-shirt. My nipples are erect and hard, my breasts firm and taut. I look up at my husband and he’s shirtless too. I watch his fingers as he unbuttons his jeans, kicks off his shoes, and then drops his pants. It takes both hands to get the heavy wet denim to cooperate and when he’s finally standing there naked, he puts his arms out and says, “This is me.”

And then he reaches down for my hand, like he wants to pull me to my feet. I hesitate because of the pain it will take to stand up. But then I decide to trust him and place my hand in his.

He pulls me up and I manage to keep the weight off my bad leg and just balance on the good one. Vaughn holds me steady for a second, and then he takes my hand and places it on his thickly muscled bicep. “Hold tight,” he says.

I do.

And then his fingers unbutton my shorts and he tugs on them for several seconds, rocking the sopping wet fabric over my hips until they plop to the ground.

He steps back a little and I let go of his arm.

I put my arms out like he did and say, “This is me.”

I’m pulled back into an embrace and I notice everything about this moment.

The sun is warm. The wind floats past my wet body, making it cool. There’s a bird singing a sweet song on a branch above our heads.

His heart beats fast. Mine beats faster.

His lips touch my ear so softly I shudder.

“This,” he says, “is us.”

Chapter Two

#MyVersion

“I KNOW you don’t remember the wedding, Grace. But it was pretty special.”

“How special could it have been?” she murmurs against my chest. “We were drunk.”

“We weren’t that drunk, I swear.” I scoop her up in my arms. She draws in a breath and I know the leg is bothering her, so I lean down and kiss her head. “Let me tell you all about it. How’s that? Do you want to hear what happened?”

“Yes,” she says softly.

I carry her over to the river and set her back down on the towel. “I’ll tell you the whole story as we float down the river naked. Deal?”

I get a smile from her at that suggestion. It starts small, just a slight lift, but then her eyes dart to the river and I can almost see her picturing it. Her smile grows.

I walk over to the pool shed and search around until I find a floating cabana with a sun shade on it. I pump it up since it’s probably been years since I’ve used this thing, and then take it outside and set it down in the loading area of the lazy river.

“Ready to hear all about your fairytale wedding?”

She’s shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks up at me. “Oh God, I’m not sure. Was I really drunk and stupid?”

I carry her over to the river and walk down the steps. “Baby,” I say, placing her on the raft, “I get that you were drunk. But please believe me—what I saw that night was nothing but perfection. I didn’t take any pictures. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you were so stunning in that dress, all rational thought just left the building.”

“What dress? I didn’t have a dress.”

“You did,” I insist as I climb next to her. “I swear. Now settle, sweets. And let me tell you all about it.” She squirms around a little, wincing from the pain in her leg, and then she places her hand over my heart and exhales.

That exhale says everything.

It says she trusts me. It says she loves me. It says she’s ready. She might not know it yet, but I do. She’s ready to move on. Those eight months Daisy spent as a captive changed her. And while I’m certainly not looking to change her back, I would like to change her forward.

“Ready?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“OK, this is exactly how it happened…”

“I’m yours,” Grace says as she wraps her legs around my middle. “I’m yours.”

I ease into her and I can feel her thighs as they grip me. Begging for me. Begging for me to fuck her harder. But I don’t want it to be hard tonight. I’ve had her hard and rough but I haven’t had her slow and sweet. And that’s what I’m craving right now.

She moans in my ear, so low it’s almost undetectable. Her hands are on my head, fingers threading through my hair. Her breath brushes my neck, sweeping across my skin in short bursts that match the heaving of her breasts against my chest.

“Come for me, sweets. Come for me.”

Her grip tightens.

“Come,” I encourage her again. “And I’ll come with you.” I flip over on my back and position her on top of me. My hands grip her hips, moving her back and forth as I thrust upwards. She moans louder. Her hands are on my chest, propping herself up, but with each thrust her resolve weakens until finally she is pressed against me. Our bodies are sweating from the sex, and the heat of our desire, and the strength of our emotion.

My fingers find her asshole and her upper body awakens once more, shooting up. Her head falls back. her mouth open. Her soft moans turn to screams.

We come together.

I come inside her, my hot semen spilling out in waves as her pussy clamps against my cock, and I grab her hair and yank her back down on top of me so I can bite her shoulder. “Mine,” is all I can manage. It’s primitive, but I don’t give a fuck. This girl is mine.

“Yours,” she moans back. “Make me yours.”

Fuck. Fuck. I pull her hair harder, wrapping my hands around her head in a way that leaves no doubt that I want to possess her. Completely.

Our hearts race against each other and we stay this way. Still. Silent. Satiated.

I trace my fingertips up and down her spine and every time I get to the small of her back, she bucks. That makes me smile so big. It makes me happy in a way I’m not sure I can describe. “Do you like it like this, Grace?”

“Yes,” she whispers and then bites my neck. “Yes. Like that, please. More.”