Somehow, we make it through the rest of the session.
We don’t touch. We don’t talk. We just sit. And somehow, the silence is the closest thing to actual intimacy, not just primal and hot sex, we’ve had in ages.
CHASE
* * *
Later, I find her in the kitchen. Her back is turned toward the door. Her hands are braced on the counter. Her fingers are gripping it so tightly her knuckles are white. Her hair is twisted up and clipped which only draws my attention to her neck. She’s wearing a tight sports bra as a shirt and black workout shorts that barely cover her ass. They’re clearly designed to test a man’s self-control when his wife is the one wearing them.
I quickly grab a glass and fill it with water, gulping it down.
“I said some heavy shit out there,” I offer, trying to sound casual.
She doesn’t turn but her spine straightens. “Mmmmmm.”
“You said some, too.”
She shrugs.
I try to take a sip and realize I’ve drained the glass. Refilling it, I stare at the back of her neck.
Wisps of dark hair are curling around it and I try not to imagine how it would feel if I pressed my mouth there and said everything I’m still too afraid to say.
I want to say it all. I mean it.
I’m just not sure she’s ready to hear it.
“You gonna talk to me, Rox?” I ask.
She finally turns around. Her dark eyes are like storm clouds. Her arms are crossed over her chest. Her lips are full and red, but not from her usual retro lipstick, from her biting and picking at them. Her cheeks are flushed.
“I’ve been talking to you for three and a half years. You just don’t listen.”
That’s not fair. And it’s not true. The only time she ever talks to me is when she’s yelling. Other than that, she never talks to me about anything real.
She’s kept so much of herself from me. She’s been so scared that I’d leave her at any moment that she never listens to me when I tell her over and over and over that I’m not going anywhere.
I wouldn’t. Hell, if I’d wanted to, I could have actually left any of the hundreds of times she kicked me out.
But I’m here.
I’m fighting for us and hoping that she’ll finally fight her fears, too.
Instead of saying any of my thoughts aloud, I simply nod. “Okay, I’m listening now.”
She lifts a brow. “Why though?” She sighs.
Exhaling, I grab the back of my neck, squeeze it, and say, “I’m still here, Rox. We’re still married. And I’m still absolutely obsessed with you.”
She tenses.
I step closer to her. She retreats until her back hits the cabinets. My hands settle on the counter beside hers, my arms boxing her in… but I don’t touch her. I don’t have to.
Our bodies remember the rest.
“You think we can be fixed?” she whispers.
Leaning in, I breathe into her ear. “We’re not broken, baby. But yeah, I think that we’re worth fighting for.”
