"Maybe. But right now, this is what I want." The admission costs me, but it's true. I'd rather have these moments with him than none at all. "I'm not asking you to forget her or to love me. You can find a moment of escape in me."
"You'd accept that?”
"Yes." The word comes out stronger than I feel. "We're married. We share a bed. Why shouldn't we find pleasure in each other?"
He reaches out, his fingers brushing my cheek with surprising tenderness. "You're sure?"
I lean into his touch, savoring this rare moment of connection. "I'm sure. No strings, no expectations. Just this." I reach out, cup him, feeling him hard and heavy behind his zipper. I half expect him to push my hand away. To bolt from the room.
The agreement settles between us, imperfect but workable. It's not what my heart truly wants, but it's better than the cold distance of the past week. Maybe, in time, he'll learn that caring for me doesn't diminish what he felt for Meghan.
But for now, I'll take what he can give.
His lips find mine, tentative at first, then with growing hunger. I melt into the kiss, knowing I shouldn't read too much into it, but my traitorous heart soars anyway. His hands tug at his clothes until his warm skin is against mine, and I arch into his touch.
Ash's weight presses me into the mattress, his body hard, pulsing with need. Every brush of skin sends electricity coursing through me. I run my fingers through his dark hair, memorizing how it feels between my fingers, storing away these precious moments.
His hands worship my body while his thoughts probably drift to another woman, but I push that thought away. I can't help butrespond to him. My body betrays me, craving his touch even as my mind screams that this will only hurt more later.
“Hannah.” His voice is strained as he rolls away. I think he’s changed his mind until he pulls me over him. “Fuck me, Hannah.”
It takes me a moment to figure out what he means. But he guides me over him, and while I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, I let my body take over. I sink over him, savoring the fullness of him. The way he pulses inside me. The way my body lights up with a million watts of pleasure.
I rock back and forth.
“Fuck…Yes…” He groans and arches into me. His fingers grip my hips, forcing me up and down until I’m riding him, until I’m lost in sensations. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
He lets out a feral groan, bucks up, and warmth fills me. I pretend for just a moment that this means something more. That I'm more than just a convenient body.
I collapse over him, wanting more than anything to lie there in his embrace. But I made a promise, so I roll off and lie next to him, catching my breath.
I feel simultaneously satisfied and pathetic. My body hums with lingering pleasure while my heart aches with the knowledge that I'm falling deeper in love with a man who will never love me back.
I chance a glance at him, and I see the guilt. I steel myself for his departure. He closes his eyes, and I hate that he’s fighting his demons, that he wants to leave but is forcing himself to stay.
Unable to bear it, I’m the one who gets up.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” I try to keep my voice neutral. “Just going to clean up.” Once I get into the bathroom, I turn on the water hoping it will drown out my anguish. I look at myself in the mirror. He’s right.I deserve more. I deserve better. But who am I kidding? If he wants me again, I’ll surrender.
I’ve done what I shouldn’t have ever done. I’ve fallen in love with my husband.
20
ASH
Ilie in bed, staring at the ceiling as Hannah cleans up in the bathroom. At least I hope that’s what she’s doing. It’s possible the running water is to mask crying. I fulfilled my promise and didn’t run away, but I must not have hidden the guilt well as the minute she saw me, her eyes welled with tears. Either that, or she feels pain that I can’t give her the love she wants. The love she deserves.
My guilt is very different this time. It’s not just feeling like I’m betraying all Meghan and I had. It’s that as I touched Hannah, as I watched her ride me, giving in to her pleasure, admiring her beauty, I didn’t think of Meghan at all. Not once. Of course, Hannah has had that effect on me, but never before had I gotten so lost in a woman that she became the center of everything. After Meghan died, being with a woman was about me. About getting off.
Tonight, and if I’m honest, the night I ran off to spar with Flint, everything was about Hannah.
The door opens, and she appears wearing a robe and looking at me like she’s expecting to be hurt. I try to smile, knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes but hoping it’s enough to reassure her.
“You okay?” I ask, pulling back her side of the sheets. She stands by the bed, turning her back to me as she takes off her robe and then pulls on her nightgown.
“Yes.” She sits on the bed and then lies back.
