“When I came home and had to go back to school, I felt empty. There was this hole in my chest that was ripped open by a man who had zero morals. I felt stilted. My growth and freedom halted in that alleyway in France. He took from me. Not just my innocence, but my hope, my will to explore, my desire for the unknown.”
As I watch her like this, her eyes glossy with the memory but shining with strength and voracity, it’s breathtaking.
“I met Wesley then.”
I grimace, thinking of the loser surfer douche who thought he could win my wife back. He can fuck right off.
“Yes, him.” She laughs, and it’s so melodical and light. It’s perfect and sweet. It’s tender and loving.
“He helped me not feel so lost. Made me want to take risks and win. He changed the game for me. Even if he was an absolute waste of time.”
“I disagree. Without him, we wouldn’t have met,” I joke and wink. It’s true, even if it seems unlikely.
“You’re right. He fixed the meek part of me. When I came home and Dad didn’t see the change in me, I didn’t tell him any of it. Not about the miscarriage, the rape, or the disease, and he didn’t care to ask.”
I hug her to me then, hoping to love all the sadness away. Imagine if a hug could do that? Love every bad thing away and only offer hope and peace? We’d have a new cure for all of life’s hardships.
“Meeting Wes was purely fateful. Dad was doing a rally, and he was there to surf on the same beach. When he spilled his beer near my dad and Daddy dearest hated him immediately, I felt a fire I thought I lost in that alley. One that hadn’t rose or erupted for anything. Plus, Wes was cute.”
I growl, nipping her throat.
“Jealousy looks hot on you,” she teases. “Wesley was hot,” she clarifies, and I’m sucking her flesh between my lips in hopes I leave a mark. “Okay, beast man. I’ll lay off. Let me finish my story so you can get back to touching me.”
I smirk, knowing that I make her wet and horny whenever I’m rough in a caveman sort of way. She’ll never admit it, but she loves when I’m possessive. She has since that night at Francis’s house when I showed her exactly whose cock would be filling her for the rest of her life.
“He was checking me out...” I bite her again and pinch her nipple for good measure. “Oh, come on!” she grunts. I chuckle at her flushed face.
“Smart man, knows a hot piece of ass when he sees one.”
“You’re a perv, Tobias.”
“Yet you still like riding my cock.” Her face reddens, and she bites her lip.
“As I was saying,” she deflects. “We hit it off, and he reminded me of why I’d never be still ever again. I’d always seek freedom and peace, even if it meant sticking it out to the shitty times no one could plan for.”
When she says those words, she looks away from me. But I won’t have it. Not today, not when we’re making progress, not when she thinks she’ll hurt me.
It hurts, but it’s my fault not hers.
“I’m sorry I fucked up.”
“Those words don’t mean what you want them to,” she whispers.
“They do,” I argue. “Because I’ll never fucking make the mistake of hurting you again.”
“How can you be so sure?” she questions, finally looking back at me. Her trust is broken, but I’ll work endlessly, even if I never get it back.
“Believe me, Sous,” I swear, holding her jaw and rubbing it softly. “If there’s anything in life I’ll ever promise you, it’s that I’ll never betray you again. If you’re mad or hugging other men, I won’t assume and accuse.” She stares at me in open-mouthed shock.
“If they get too handsy, though, I’ll fucking string them up by their balls myself.”
A giggle escapes her, making me feel so warm inside it’s unreal.
“Love me even when I’m a mess, Sous.”
Her gaze locks with mine, and she doesn’t waver when she responds. “I do. Pretty sure I have since we scowled at each other in that event room.”
“It was foreplay, Sous. All fucking foreplay.”
“I love you, Toby. More than cooking.”
A smile breaks free from my mouth. “I love you too, little chef.”
I waste no time to pin her to the bed, watching as her mouth opens in a moan. This is my fucking wife,