I can barely hear him. All I can think of is the same thing that’s been running through my head for days—how I yelled at Troy to get out, how I told him I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to listen to his excuses.
“Hey.” Edmund tilts my chin so I’m looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it’s your fault.”
“It is, though.” And it hurts. I miss him so much it hurts, and it hurts that it’s my fault.
“It’s just as much my fault as it is yours. I’ve been an asshole the past couple of weeks, pushing him to the side. I thought it would be better if he was less involved.”
“Better for what? Why?” I frown because one, it’s unlike Edmund to open up like this, and two, I didn’t realize he was pushing Troy to the side. I’d sensed tension between them. I even thought I could be the cause. But Edmund, pushing Troy away?
“It’s stupid. I thought if you and I were married, that it should just be you and me. Not Troy.”
I inhale sharply and take a step back from him. “And you didn’t think to ask what I thought of that idea?”
“I had it in my head it would be good for us both.”
“Why—why would you think that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, I was being stupid. And by the time I got my head out of my ass, it was too late, I guess. Fuck. I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you both.” He leans forward until his forehead presses against mine.
It’s strangely intimate, and strangely right. Our faces close together. Our breaths mingling.
I lift my hands to touch his wide shoulders. The muscles on this guy. Heck. He’s beautiful.
My face tilts toward his at the same time his moves toward mine. Soon, we’re kissing. He tastes like cinnamon, so I part my lips. I want more of him, I want all of him.
He fists the back of my t-shirt, lifting it.
I pull back.
“Sorry, sorry.” He lets go of my shirt.
“No.” I clear my throat. “I—I want you. It’s just…”
He waits, his eyes locked on mine.
“It’s just I don’t deserve this. Not after I yelled at Troy.”
“Ah.” A slow smile grows on his face. “Maybe you need to be punished.”
“I—what?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
I do. And I’m both ashamed and aroused by the thrill of lust that moves through me.
Still, I hesitate. “I’m not—I’m not really sure about punishment.”
“Aren’t you?”
I bite my lip. He “punished” me that one time in my granddad’s kitchen, but that was more frustrating than anything else. He took me to the edge of orgasm, then walked away. Right now, I get the idea he’s talking about something more intense. We won’t be limited by other people. It’s just the two of us here. “I haven’t done much of that.”
“I have.” He says it easily, like it’s a boring fact about how fast cheetahs run, or what he ate for lunch today. His head tilts to the side as he considers me. “Do you want me to show you?”
16
Edmund
She bites her lower lip, considering my question. I can’t stop staring at her mouth. Fuck, she’s so sweet, it hurts. Does she want me to teach her about punishment? About the way it can free her mind and body? I want to show her everything.
