Aubrey (Axis Rising)

018:

         

*****018:

With Rafe and I sleeping downstairs now, I didn't hear the kids as easily, even though I actually had a baby monitor so I could. It was Rafe who got up in the night, and took that carpeted climb to cuddle either Felicity or Rein. I was so wiped out anyway from the camping trip and the plane rides and the concert. I was pooped. I lay in bed debating whether or not I could actually get this bulky incubator of a body out of the sheets.

I stared at the ceiling.

I'd stared at this ceiling many times. The very first night/ morning I'd met Rafe, I'd been as exhausted, maybe more. Having pulled a three-day stint at the hospital. He'd put me here, without me even knowing it, roughly. I mean who doesn't know when they're being moved in their sleep? Two-year-olds? I'm pretty sure I walked in here, but I'd fallen asleep again before I'd realized that Rafe was in here too. That morning he'd made me a smoothie, left me a daisy; it was all so perfectly romantic.

And then, we'd come home from Mexico, heartsick, battered and beaten, and married. Yep—married. Just like that. It had happened pretty fast. Everything about us happened fast.

These walls had seen the initial brilliant blasts of lovemaking that had shattered my world and solidified the whole idea I'd never comprehended about sex being a rather huge important factor in a permanent relationship and not just for procreation. This ceiling had seen my wantonness and my tears, my deepest inhibitions lost and my modesty shredded. I'd become, in this room, another person entirely, all at the hands of my eternal partner, the man I trusted with my life and beyond.

I sighed, and stretched as much as you can with five squiggly crowded babies inside. When I stretch, they need to stretch, simple as that, we weren't independent of that movement.

I placed my hands on them, rubbing the taut skin, feeling the marks of elasticity thinning. I swallowed. I'd had a fairly good figure before. I hoped I would again.

Beside me, Rafe shivered from head to toe, his hands shot out and the fingers extended as wide and as long as they'd go. I watched this procedure with interest. Then his legs stiffened, his back arched and finally he settled, turning on his side to wrap me in his arms. His legs hadn't been the only thing to stiffen.

I reached down to touch him and he groaned. His groans caused a tremor of dopamine to shoot into my system. He slid lower, making himself out of my reach as he nuzzled into my chest. I yanked on his hair, one knee bent, "What are you doing? It's my turn."

"Um... yes it is." He licked my quivering skin.

"I mean... I mean it's my turn to----." I arched as he pulled me up to his waiting mouth, supporting my middle back with both hands. One leg insinuated between mine and slid skin to skin along my thighs.

There is nothing like waking up to this man.

A little while later, he rolled out of bed smiling in satisfaction, so sleek and beautiful, covered in tattoos, full sleeves of them--his ink—a part of him before me, a part of him I was still fascinated by like it or not. The designs were impressive, intricate, secret and complex. Yes, he'd posed with his back exposed several times. He'd not been shy about it before me. And he certainly had the incredible body for showing off. He worked out four sometimes five hours a day, one way or another. I knew he was heading out for a run right now. He said keeping mentally and physically fit was a way he respected himself and more importantly me. By doing this he was able to keep a clear and focused mind, and not bottle up unwanted energy.

It was Sunday. We went to church on Sundays. However, Rafe ran every day. He said he kept sane by having that alone time, and he felt that God understood. I felt that he did the best he could with the incredible changes we were making to be part of each other's lives, and add children to the mix as well.