Cocky Protector - Kat Mizera Page 0,34

we were totally wrong for each other, but I was twenty-five and wanted children, so I started going out with him. It was nice. Nothing earth-shattering, but he was smart, well-traveled, educated and attentive. We went to nice places and did fun things constantly. So the man, who he was beneath the surface, didn’t become apparent until it was too late.”

“Pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside,” he murmured.

“It wasn’t entirely his fault,” I said sadly. “I wanted him to be something he wasn’t. I was fairly quiet and shy when we met, because I was trying to be who my mother told me I should be, so I could find a husband and have the children I wanted so much. I should have let him see who I was much earlier as well, but I didn’t understand what that meant in the context of a relationship.”

“But you are quiet and shy, aren’t you?”

“Shy, yes. Quiet? Not really. Not with people I know. The thing is, he thought I would be the perfect submissive little wife and bow to his every whim. He didn’t realize that shy doesn’t mean easily manipulated or naïve about the world. Naïve about sex? Definitely. But the world? Absolutely not. When he realized I wasn’t going to be what he wanted, he tried to access my trust fund, but I wasn’t willing to let him have a dime. He wanted me to stop working, but I love to teach and wasn’t ready to quit.” I swallowed hard, slightly embarrassed to be telling him about this. “He also wanted threesomes, and while that’s fine if it’s your thing, it’s not mine. Not because it’s bad—everything he proposed actually seemed kind of sexy—but our relationship was already precarious and, frankly, I’m not the kind of woman who could do that, share my husband with other women. Maybe if I’d been sexually active before I got married, I might have tried it with a one-night stand or something. But with my husband? Not a chance in hell.”

“While polyamorous relationships are fine in theory, I don’t think I could do it either,” he said, his hands moving up my calf and squeezing a little harder than before. “But it was unfair of him to spring that on you, especially knowing you were a virgin before you got married.”

“Well, we had sex before we got married, because I didn’t want my wedding night to be painful or messy or any of the stories you hear about your first time.”

“So he knew you were inexperienced and thought he’d be able to mold you into the sexual partner he wanted instead of allowing you to find out what you wanted.” It was more of a statement than a question and I merely nodded.

“I suppose.”

“Of all the things I regret in my life, that might be at the top of my list now. If your first time had been with me, I promise it would have been very, very different.”

I thought I said, “I know,” but I wasn’t sure because I must have drifted off to sleep.

The next time I opened my eyes it was morning, though it was still dark out. I was under the covers, still fully dressed, and I nearly cried with frustration. I’d fallen asleep and he’d been a perfect gentleman. I didn’t expect any less, of course, but this wasn’t fair. I didn’t know how long I’d have him in my life and I wanted him, all of him, all of everything there was to have while we were together. And maybe, if the intensity between us continued to grow, he wouldn’t leave me at all.

Ace was awake, because when I turned over, he was lying on his side with his back to me, but I saw the light from his cell phone and heard him lightly tapping on the screen. Though he was just a couple feet away, since our beds were separate, it felt like miles and I was suddenly sad. As if the distance between us was some kind of metaphor for my life. The loneliness I tried so hard to pretend was okay. The babies I hadn’t had. The emptiness that had become so poignant since I lost my father. Even when my marriage had been unraveling before my eyes, I’d had my father to lean on.

I still had my mother, of course, and though we were closer now than we’d ever been, it wasn’t the same as the bond I’d had with