I SENSED the kiss was coming-Harriet’s eyes told me long before she leaned in.
I knew.
But I didn’t expect it to rock my world the way it does. My wife rests her soft palms against my face.
I taste gratefulness along with her desire. It’s a mix of delicate disbelief and chaos.
Her lips are familiar. Soft as the roses she planted in the front lawn. Sweeter than a glass of wine after a long day. And yet, I explore them slowly. Gently. Because there’s something else. Something buried beneath the curves I know and the mouth I’ve crushed a hundred times before.
My eyes sweep closed.
The mystery fades to the back of my head until Harriet sighs against my mouth.
It hits me then.
Crackles just beneath the surface of my chest. Me.
I’m the one who changed. That’s why the kiss is different.
I never treasured her the way I do right now. I never gave her the respect I have right now.
She was my wife and there was ownership. There was authority. But there wasn’t love or understanding. There wasn’t a pause to hear the words in her heart that she buried beneath the spite that shot from her mouth. There wasn’t patience, sensitivity or care for anyone but myself.
I loved her. I did.
But love wasn’t enough.
I think I found the more that our marriage always needed. Commitment.
I shift the angle of my head, dragging Harriet more firmly against me. She grunts and throws her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately as if she’s trying to start a fire as big as the one burning behind us.
Instead of slipping my tongue into her mouth and taking this where she wants it to go, I let my teeth nibble along the soft flesh of her bottom lip.
It’s an exploring touch. Teasing.
It takes her from hungry to ravenous.
My wife leans forward, opening her mouth for more. I can’t resist her.
I never could.
She shudders when I kiss her deeply, her nails scraping the nape of my neck. “I missed that,” she murmurs, breaking away to catch her breath. “But I’m getting lightheaded.”
I chuckle. “Need to sit down?”
“Not a chance.” She surges forward again.
This time, her fingers wrap around my neck and haul me down.
I caress her tongue with mine. Smirk when a low, thick moan slips from her throat.
It’s been ages since I’ve been with my wife. Even longer since it felt this intense. This urgent. My heart races.
I’m a schoolboy with the girl he’s been running after since day one. I’m trembling limbs and hot fingers and jeans a little too tight.
She feels so good against me. So soft.
So perfect.
I destroy her lips, wrapping her to my chest as if I’m trying to fuse her into me. This is what people mean when they say someone’s killing them softly. I’m dying. Every part of me sizzles from an obsession so strong, it’ll push me out of my own body.
And yet, I can’t find two damns to rub together.
“Jerrison,” Harriet croaks in a voice so raw and hungry that I nearly lose my mind, “make love to me tonight.”
This time, I’m the one who groans.
It’s low. Rumbles through the night like a wild animal. Predator.
Prey.
Except the roles are mixed up.
I’m the one in the palm of her hands.
Harriet presses her slender fingers to my chest. Can she feel my heart beating? Can she tell I’m two seconds away from a heart attack? I want to fling her on the table and bury so deep inside her she’ll never find the end of me.
Her fingers fist around my shirt. “Jer… please.” “I want to,” I growl.
Damn. She doesn’t know how much. I’m on fire.
Every inch of me. Every vein in my body. I need water.
A fire hose.
The colder the better.
“Not here.” She shakes her head as if she’s talking to herself. “My place?”
“No.”
“Yours?” She licks her lips. Presses a kiss to my neck. “I mean, ours?” My heart does a flip.
Our home.
Mine. Hers. The one we bought together. The rooms that saw our fights, our misery, our distance. The breaking that is just being repaired.
My hands slide down her sides. I’m dying.
This is…
This is torture.
“Baby…” My mind goes blank when she slides her hand up my stomach. The flat of her palm is over my shirt, but she might as well be rubbing every nerve in my body.
I more than need her. Craving.
The worse kind.
A drug addict on his last hit.
In a burst of sanity, I ease her away.
The distance feels like a thousand miles. Cold slips between our bodies.
Harriet goes stiff. “Do you not want to?” “Of course I do-”
My wife pulls away before I can explain how desperately I wish to see her naked body. She wraps her arms around her waist, a picture of self- consciousness.
Unease tiptoes into her eyes. In a moment, I can feel it.
Them.
The other women.
They creep into the clearing, dancing around me in shadows that only Harriet can see.
I rush forward before those dark thoughts can take over. Grabbing her elbow, I growl, “You have no idea how much I want you. There are so many things I want to do to you…”
I stop to catch my breath as I debate giving her a little demonstration. What if I drag her to a tree? Push her skirt to her waist? Shower her in leaves that fall while she’s bawling my name?
A shake of my head keeps my hands from moving. A deep breath keeps her clothes on. “Baby-Harriet, I’m ready.”
“So why not?” Her words aren’t angry, just confused.
I stare at her. Try to sift beneath it all. Rejection. It shocks me when I recognize it in her face. In what world would I not want a woman as stunning as my wife?
My eyes slide over her floral blouse and tight jeans. Soft brown skin. Memories of being with her fill my head. I quickly snap my gaze back to her face because my body is hard, hungry and roaring its objections.
“You can be honest, Jerrison.” The sharpness in her tone reminds me of the past. Words that shot through the air like arrows. Dangerous knives breaking skin and fragile hearts.
“I’m an athlete who needs to get back in shape,” I tell her. She gives me a strange look and I run my hands through my hair, struggling to make sense when the brain in my pants is warring with the one in my head. “I
want to get back into the ring, but I don’t want to take the shortcut. I want to pass this test. I want to prove I have control. I want to show you and myself that I can do this the right way.”
She pulls her lips in as guilt flickers through her expression. “Doc.” “It’s not just Doc.” I pull her into my arms because, even if I can’t have
all of her tonight, I don’t want her far away. “I mean, it is. Everything he’s recommended so far is working and I want to keep going to the end. But it’s more. I need this, Harriet. I want to earn you back so you never doubt me again.”
“And what happens after?” “After?”
“After you prove yourself and get back into the ring?” It’s an innocent question, but it makes my pulse jump anyway.
“I’m going to take you on a honeymoon.” My forehead rests against hers. “And I’m going to throw you on a bed in some tropical country.” Her breathing changes. From quick and light to heavy. “And I’m going to do all kinds of wicked things to you.” My fingers tighten on her arm. “Okay?”
She nods.
“Now, are you going to eat?” I growl. “Because I’m not on the menu.” She laughs against my lips.
I kiss her for being so damn beautiful.
And then I kiss her again for that heart-stopping smile.
By the time we stumble back to the table, we’re both out of breath and in desperate need of water.
We take our seats beside candles that have blown out and ice that’s melted. Thankfully, the waiter brings our food out nice and hot.
Conversation flows as freely as the wine in Harriet’s cup. I’m driving so I don’t touch a drop of alcohol. Normally, I’d risk it, but tonight I’ve got precious cargo.
We hold hands over the table. Stare into each other’s eyes.
Sometimes, I’ll get lost. In the middle of a conversation. In the middle of laughter. I’ll stop and feel a fresh wave of gratefulness that I’ve got this opportunity. That I have a chance to convince her I’ve truly changed.
The night stretches forever. Moonlight bursts through the shadows. My wife is everything I didn’t know I needed.
Everything I had but never recognized.
My sigh fails to convey how much I regret hurting her.
It sticks with me.
A burden on my back. A needle in my side.
When I drop her outside her door later that night, I linger in the hallway, holding her hand. “What do you want to eat tomorrow?”
“I’m stuffed.” She rubs her stomach. “Let me drive you to work then.”
She smiles. Steps into me. Wraps her hands around my neck. “You’re being clingy.”
“I’m never clingy.” I press a kiss to my nose. “Send me your utility bills, okay? Don’t forget.”
“Jerrison.”
“Yes?” I keep my tone light. “I can pay my own bills.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
“You implied.” Her smile is gorgeous.
I graze my hand over her lips. “Is it so bad that I want to spoil you?” “I’ll get used to it,” she warns.
“Good.” I step back because, if I don’t, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone tonight. “I’ll never stop spoiling you.”
“I’m starting to believe that,” she murmurs.
I keep holding her hand while I step back, letting my fingers linger on her until they break apart. “It’s late. Get some rest.”
“Lunch tomorrow?” she asks hopefully. “And dinner.”
Her laughter is music to my ears. “It’s a date.” I grin so wide my cheeks hurt. “A date.”
The trek from her door to my car is the longest of my life. I don’t want to leave her.
Not tonight. Not ever.
But I force myself to get into my truck and drive home. My phone chirps when I step inside the garage.
I brighten, thinking it’s Harriet. But it’s not.
It’s Fuentes with a text that warns, ‘we need to talk’.