19
Sara
I wake up Saturday morning with the knowledge that Peter and I have been married for a week—and that we just spent the first night in our new house.
I didn’t have a chance to look at everything last night, so I take in the bedroom now. It’s bright and spacious, with the walls painted a soothing, pale blue-gray and the recessed ceiling at least twelve feet high above our king-sized oak-frame bed.
It’s pretty and modern, and I have a sudden wifely urge to buy plants to put in every corner.
Grinning, I stretch, then wince at the inner soreness. After that brutal claiming in the hallway, Peter carried me upstairs and took me again in the shower, then one more time in this bed.
One of these days, we’ll need to talk about what a normal, healthy amount of s*x is. Men aren’t supposed
