“Whitney …” I started to say, my hand combing through her curls. I looked into her eyes and waited for it. The understanding. The beginning.
She closed her eyes. Took a slow, deep breath, then opened them. Her gaze skimming past me, over my shoulder. “It’s late, Kyle. I think we should head to bed.”
My stomach flipped over, and I felt a crushing disappointment.
Not again …
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I sat up; my dick wet with her. The smell of sex was strong.
“Kyle, this was ... I don’t know how to …” her words trailed off. She shook her head and quickly got dressed.
She wasn’t regretting it, again was she? I thought we had decided not to go down that road again.
“I’m just tired,” she said weakly, giving me a sad impression of a smile.
“I heard you the first time,” I replied gruffly.
I turned off all the lights and followed her up the stairs. After everything tonight, I sure as hell hadn’t expected her total and complete shutdown. Not after all that she said. Not after the most amazing lovemaking of my life.
We paused at the top of the stairs. Would she turn left to head to her room, or should I ask her to come to mine? We were married for fuck’s sake, why was this so damn difficult?
“I’m doing it, aren’t I?” she asked, taking my hand.
“Doing what?” I wanted to hear her say it. To acknowledge it.
“I’m pushing you away. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.” She wrapped her arms around me and went up on her tiptoes, kissing me sweetly. “Your room or mine?”
I leaned down and swooped her up in my arms. She let out a startled gasp and giggled, clinging to my neck. I kissed her hard. Never wanting to let her go. “This way, Mrs. Webber.” I carried her to my room, and we didn’t go to sleep until the sun started to come up.
**
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I took a bite of toast and read it, letting out a groan.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered. I looked at Katie, who was babbling happily in her highchair, her hands in her applesauce. “Oops, I mean crap.” Not that she was paying attention to what I was saying, but the last thing I needed with the way her vocabulary was expanding was for her to pick up the f-bomb. My mom would love that.
“What is it?” Whitney asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She looked beautiful this morning, her hair secured in a bun at the base of her neck, the pale green of her scoop-neck tank top hugging the breasts I had just sucked that morning as I fucked her senseless.
It was Monday morning, and things were definitely different now. This no longer felt like a marriage of convenience. Especially not now that she was sleeping in my bed every night.
Before Katie had gotten up, we had taken a shower together. My head was full of the memory of pushing her front against the tiled wall and taking her from behind. Our soapy bodies slipping and sliding as I screwed her brains out.
“Huh?” I had forgotten the question. Forgotten why I was irritated. I was too busy thinking of when I’d get her naked again.
Whitney raised an eyebrow as if reading my mind. “You seem pissy. Why?”
“Oh, I just got a text from that guardian ad litem, Mr. Struthers. He needs to reschedule the home visit for this afternoon. I was supposed to be breaking ground on a new project today on the other side of town. It means I have to move a bunch of shit around. But I’ll do what I have to do.” I ruffled Katie’s hair. “This is more important.”
“I’ll talk to Adam, Jeremy, and Rob, I’m sure they’ll let me leave early.” She poured the rest of her coffee into her to-go cup and screwed the top on.
“I thought I had a few more days to prepare. The house is a mess.” I looked around at the sight of Katie’s toys everywhere. Then there was the matter of moving Whitney’s things to my room. I started to panic a little.
Whitney, obviously picking up on my freak out, put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll come home at lunch and clean. And I’ll move my clothes to your closet. He’ll never know I sleep in the other room.”
I grabbed her hand as she started to turn away. “Move everything over,”