Free Crushed (Breaking the Rules Series Book 5) by K Webster

her.
    Padding barefoot down the hallway, I peek my head into the nursery. Tomorrow, after the funeral, I plan on taking the other crib down. It’s too much of a sad reminder, and it will only hurt Andi to see it each day. I walk over to the one with Tyler in it and smile. He’s so fucking cute in the pajamas Mom got for him. All boy dressed in blue. His blond hair is so soft that I have the urge to touch it, but I know what a mistake that is. He’ll wake up, and I’m too exhausted for that right now. I haven’t slept for more than two hours straight in a couple of days.
    When I hear voices, I creep out of the nursery and down the hallway to our room. I want to burst through the bedroom door and beat my fists on my chest. Remind Bray that Andi is my wife. But that’s stupid and uncalled for. He’s just trying to help. I just wish I were the one who could help her, but she won’t let me.
    Unable to keep my curiosity in check, I quietly turn the knob and crack the door open. The sight fillets my heart. Bray is holding my wife. He’s holding her how she won’t let me hold her. And as her body shudders wildly with her sobs, he strokes her hair. I watch him with green eyes of envy as he mutters whispers of assurances to her.
    I’m a voyeur to their private exchange, and I’m jealous as fucking hell. But at the same time, I love her deeply. And if this helps her, I will push away the rage that bubbles in my chest and let him hold her. Anything that helps comfort my wife is progress in my book. I’m thankful that she let someone in—even if it is Bray.
    My wife needs a shoulder to cry on.
    I just wish it were mine.
    When she begins speaking to him, I soundlessly close the door. I don’t want to invade on what she’s telling him. Sighing, I pad back toward the nursery. Toward my little buddy.
    This time, I do ruffle his hair just so I have an excuse to hold him.

    I wake to lips softly kissing my neck. My Andi. Another dream. Yet it’s not a dream. Lying here in the quiet, dark bedroom, I feel her fingers skim along my bare chest, and I’m almost afraid to breathe—afraid to break the spell. She’s somehow managed to sidle herself under my arm, and she feels so damn good pressed against me.
    God, how I’ve missed her touch.
    My hand finds her hair and I stroke her lovingly. I don’t have the words for her right now, but I hope she can feel my love, which is as thick as the blackness that surrounds us. A silent sob hangs in her throat, but I sense it. Her tears slide from her eyes and splash on my bare skin. Searching in the dark with my other hand, I swipe them off her cheeks. With a sigh, she leans into my palm, needing me as much as I need her.
    “Andi, baby, I love you so much,” I whisper so softly that I wonder if she even heard it.
    But she hears.
    My wife always hears.
    “Jackson,” she murmurs, “I love you too.”
    Needing to feel closer to her, I gently roll her over to pin her beneath me. Somehow in the dark, I find her supple lips and kiss them reverently. God, how I missed these lips. She kisses me as if I might suddenly disappear.
    I’m not going fucking anywhere.
    Even though my dick is now hard as rock, I know that all I care about is holding and kissing her. Her body is still healing, and as much as I want to sink myself deep inside her, I won’t even try. Kissing her is enough. Touching her is more than enough.
    I kiss her softly until I can’t take it any longer and nibble at her lips. She tastes like pure heaven and I can’t get enough. I want to press my lips against hers until her lips are swollen, chapped, and sore as hell. My tongue wants to worship hers and dance with it all night.
    When her hands slide into my hair and she tugs lightly, I groan into her mouth. Being with her like this is so fucking amazing. I’ve missed her so much.
    I’m completely content with making out with my wife like we’re a couple of love-sick teenagers, but when she slides her hand between us and