Chapter 21 #2
It had been frustrating knowing that there was so much more just beneath the cool, smooth surface that she presented to the world and never getting to see it.
Smith had believed that a wedding ring would be an instant free pass to all of her secrets.
And when she’d been reticent about revealing them, protecting herself, he’d selfishly decided that the problem lay with her.
What an arrogant, entitled prick he was.
His arms tightened protectively around her slender torso.
“You’re awake.” Her voice was low and husky with sleep.
“So are you,” he pointed out, unable to keep the smile from his face and out of his voice. He nuzzled the hair at her temple and kissed the soft skin beneath. “What are you thinking about?”
She yawned and shifted slightly but, gratifyingly, didn’t move from his hold. Instead, one hand dropped to his hip and absently stroked his skin.
“Honestly? I was wondering how to remove cum stains from linen upholstery.”
Her prosaic words startled a bark of laughter from him. She patted his thigh reassuringly before continuing to talk.
“There must be some kind of life hack for that, right?”
“I’m sure of it,” he agreed soberly, fighting back more laughter. “People fuck on sofas all the time. It must be a pretty common problem.”
“Baking soda might work,” she mused.
“Or you could just leave it as-is. Surely it’s no worse than whatever the hell stains the last couch collected over the years.”
She shuddered in response to his words
“Oh God, don’t remind me!”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
The warm glow of the table lamp on the stand beside the sofa illuminated their corner of the living room.
“Sounds like the storm has passed,” she said inanely and he made a low sound of agreement. Her hand was no longer moving, just a gentle weight on his thigh.
“I was wondering,” she began, and Smith tensed slightly. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but felt certain it couldn’t be good if she was this nervous about broaching it.
“Yes?” He kept his own tone undemanding. Neutral and non-threatening.
He heard her swallow and her hand made an agitated patting gesture on his thigh, trying to appease him before she even spoke.
“I was wondering if this time was better than, uh, with your hand?”
It took him a second to understand and when he realized what she was asking, it just about broke his heart.
The sheer level of insecurity it revealed was staggering. Insecurity that hadn’t existed until he’d put it there by telling her that he got more satisfaction jerking off in the shower than with her. More of that scorched-earth bullshit coming back to bite him in the arse.
The longer he took to respond, the more she tensed, and when Smith recognized what was happening, he was instantly swamped with regret.
“Kenna, what happened between us tonight was easily the most satisfying experience of my life. It was—”
Words escaped him. How did one even begin to describe perfection? He lacked the vocabulary. None of the humble words he possessed in his meager brain could ever sufficiently describe how he had felt tonight.
“It was…” He tried again then shook his head in helpless frustration before defaulting to the only word that came close. “Perfect.”
He cycled through a number of different ways he could improve upon that inadequate word while trying to elaborate.
“It kind of was, wasn’t it?” she asked before he could say anything more, and he could hear the smile in her voice. His own lips lifted in helpless response to it.
“It was,” he reiterated. “It was more than that, Kenna. It was unparalleled.”
“Singular,” she supplied.
“Just like you.”
She attempted to turn around, her sharp elbow jabbing him in the ribs, and nearly tumbled over the edge of the couch in the process.
He caught her just in time, but she continued the clumsy set of movements—elbows flying, hair everywhere at once, nearly kneeing him in the balls—until she had turned around completely. Her face a mere inch away from his.
She winced when she looked at him properly.
“Your poor eye,” she whispered, delicately prodding the skin around his left eye. “Does it still hurt?”
“I’d forgotten about it,” he admitted. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t open his eye very wide.
Her palm cupped his cheek and she leaned in to kiss him.
He could get used to this treatment.
“So, should we talk about what happened?” she asked after ending the kiss, her eyes boring into his.
“I thought that was what we were doing,” he replied, tenderly stroking her tangled hair behind her ears to reveal more of her face.
“Talk about what this means.”
“I don’t know what it means, Kenna,” he admitted, his voice a low growl. “Do you?”
“Not really.”
“Why don’t we do something completely different, then?” he suggested after a short hesitation.
“Different how?”
“We’re always trying to define things. Create rules and boundaries. Everything needs to be in a neat little box and that’s the only place it’s allowed to exist.”
“Generous of you to use we, Smith. You and I both know that you’re talking about me. Rigid and nonconforming.”
“No, not really. I’m guilty of it as well. I expected our marriage to be one thing and when it wasn’t that, it frustrated me, pissed me off. I lost patience. And because it wasn’t what I wanted it to be, I blamed you.”
“You expected a real marriage. What you got was a-a travesty.”
“My mistake was in expecting a real marriage under the circumstances. I pushed you into it and then I expected everything to be immediately perfect. You were the same woman I’d found so inordinately fascinating in those months before you got pregnant, but after our marriage, I wanted more.
Expected more. Demanded more. I wanted you to trust me, let me behind your shields, show me all your vulnerabilities…
but I hadn’t done a single fucking thing to earn your trust. I selfishly believed a wedding ring entitled me to that trust.”
He lifted her left hand and thumbed the pale, naked strip of skin where her rings had once rested. His expression was filled with regret and sadness, but he didn’t comment on the missing rings.
“When I left, I did a great job of trying to place all the blame for the failure of our marriage on you. But you were right when you said it wasn’t—isn’t—true. And it wasn’t fucking fair.”
“You were unhappy for a year? More?” she asked. “But you never said as much. Never sat me down to talk about it.”
He swallowed and his eyes flashed with regret and lingering grief.
“It shows how completely oblivious I am to the intricacies of human emotion that I believed you were content. Happy to stay with me. Happy with our arrangement. I was so foolish.”
“Kenna, I—” She dropped a finger to his lips, silencing the anguished words of apology he’d been attempting.
“Smith, I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, I just want you to understand me.
By now, you must know that I’m worse than most at picking up emotional cues.
Learning how you felt only after I allowed myself to trust our relationship was devastating.
” Hearing the despair in her voice, knowing that it existed only because of him and his blundering cruelty, was absolutely gut-wrenching.
“I’ll never be one to wear my heart on my sleeve,” she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper.
“I can’t function like that. Every raw emotion on display.
I’m too private and too afraid of being hurt.
When we got married the way we did, for the reason we did, you didn’t feel like someone I could trust. Our marriage didn’t feel real…
or permanent. And then when we lost the baby, it felt like the writing on the wall.
You kept pushing me and pushing me to talk about how I was feeling.
I just couldn’t. Not because I didn’t care—I did.
I wanted that baby so much, Smith. So much.
And the miscarriage broke my heart. But I found it so hard to talk to you about that loss because I knew that if I allowed you to comfort me, if I leaned on you, it would hurt that much more when you left me. ”
“Fuck, Kenna… Fuck. I wish I’d known.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? How could you have known when I didn’t tell you? How could I have told you, when I didn’t believe you would stay? Just a vicious cycle of miscommunication and misunderstandings.”
“Then we should break the cycle,” he decided.
“How?”
“That’s what I started to say earlier,” he said, tracing the delicate line of her cheekbone with a reverent finger. “By placing zero expectations on ourselves. On this. By just letting it be, and seeing how it evolves.”
“No pressure,” she whispered.
“None. Do you think we could do that?”
“Maybe? Yes?”
“And instead of trying to guess what I’m feeling, you ask.”
She smiled. “So simple, isn’t it?”
“Simplified and adapted to suit our current situation,” he corrected. “Not simple. We were both operating under some serious misconceptions after we married. This solution wouldn’t have worked for us then, so we shouldn’t beat ourselves up over what we can’t change. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She inched closer to him, her thigh wedging between his and sliding up against the rampant hard-on which had waxed and waned throughout their conversation.
“So, what are you feeling right now?” she asked with a sensuous little smile, her toned thigh rubbing against his cock more purposely.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her deeply. “I’m thinking that if we’re going to do this again, we’re going to have to move to the bedroom.”
“To save the couch from more cum stains?”
He chuckled.
“No, to save my back from early onset osteoarthritis.”
He rolled them both over in one fluid motion and pulled her up into his arms, reveling in the rare sound of her happy giggle as he carried her to the bedroom.