Chapter 26
Mikhail
Ican barely stand to be around my wife as we enter the foyer back home. Every timid glance she throws me, every accidental brush of her small body against mine, threatens to obliterate the little self-control I have left.
It’s too fucking much. Never in my life have I denied myself anything to the point of literal pain.
But as I sat across from her at the restaurant and let her peer into my past, I realized there was nothing, really, I couldn’t tell her. Nothing I wouldn’t do for her. And it scared the shit out of me.
The past five days proved one thing: no amount of violence, alcohol, or cigarettes could keep my mind off Cecilia. I only wanted to be where she was. To hear her play until her melodies crawled under my skin. To see her face light up when the world softened around her.
And I wanted her perfect body just as badly. Her mouth. Her thighs. The knowledge that no one’s ever had her the way I would. The thought of spreading her open kept me rock hard all week. I built an extra pound of muscle in my right hand, jacking off to the many thoughts of her.
And that’s the fucking problem.
Because once I touch her like I’ve been meaning to since I first saw her, I don’t trust myself to stop. I don’t trust myself not to ruin her. I’ve built my life on chaos, yet my wife is the first thing that makes me hesitant about being reckless. I care about her, shocking as it may be.
I may not be the kind of man who plays house or believes in happy endings, but if I let myself have her—really have her, the way my body craves—there won’t be any more excuses for me to stay detached.
I walk behind her upstairs until we reach my old bedroom. The door is open, and the piano I gifted her stares back at us. I took out all the furniture so I could turn this into her new study, like the one she had back in San Maleno. Our new reality now hangs in the air between us.
“As much as I appreciate your gift, I don’t have a place to sleep anymore,” she says jokingly, but it comes out a little breathless. She’s still buzzing with wanton energy from our date. I can tell, because so am I.
“You were never meant to stay here alone,” I say. “From now on, you’ll sleep in my bed. Say yes.”
Leaning against the door frame, she looks up at me and nods with a shy smile. “Yes.”
God, she’s so goddamn gorgeous with that shoulder-length hair. She didn’t tell me why she cut it, but somehow, I knew it had nothing to do with me. She looked content with it earlier when I saw her.
“You make me so fucking proud, you know that?” I say.
Her cheeks flush. “Because I agree to sleep in your bed?”
I tip her chin up, her skin raging with heat that meshes with mine. “Because I know every time I ask you for what you want, you’re no longer afraid to be yourself, to say what you really mean.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
I shake my head. “No, sweetheart. It’s all you. It’s always been you.”
She smiles with that plump, sweet mouth of hers, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her here.
“Come on. Let’s get you ready for bed,” I say, leading us into a nearby bedroom—the one where I lay when she called the doctor for me that day.
I already brought all her belongings here this morning.
I let her walk past me, seeing her petite figure among the mass of dark colors.
She runs her fingers across the silky sheets, taking in the space.
Does she remember when she fell asleep here and woke up with me on top of her?
Does she wish she’d stayed instead of running away?
I know I fucking did, even then.
“You brought my clothes,” she realizes, her voice soft as a whisper. A thin, lacy nightgown waits for her on the bed. I don’t say anything as she picks it up then looks at me.
“I’ll…um…I’ll go take a shower, then,” she says.
I nod, still standing at the threshold of the room, my feet itching to take that step forward.
I know very well that once I enter and lock this door behind me, there will be no turning back.
I’ll have to taste her, keep her up all night by tracing the lines of her perfect body in my memory.
Punish her, if I have to—and so help me God, I hope she’ll give me a reason.
She walks into the adjacent bathroom, disappearing behind the wall until, shortly after, the sound of running water reaches my ears. I let out a charged breath—a groan—as I finally allow my feet to move inside, past the edge of my sanity as I close the door behind me.
Then, I lock it.