Chapter 7
Rain
“Who is he?”
His voice breaks the silence of the room. I look up from my laptop, my focus fracturing.
“Who? Mario?”
Cody gives a single nod, trying to look indifferent as he adjusts his position on the couch.
“He is my colleague in the legal department,” I say, turning back to the screen. “My close second.”
“I see. A close second, huh.”
“Yeah. A close second. Why are you asking?”
“Well, you guys are awfully close.”
I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Is that jealousy darkening his tone, or is he simply trying to mark his territory? I close the laptop slightly, tilting my head. “Where is this going, Cody?”
He pushes off the cushions, intending to stand, but his injured ankle gives way, forcing him to drop back down with a low grunt.
“What do you say we practice intimacy?”
My ears perk up at the words. I stare at him, my heart skipping a beat. “What?”
“What has come over you?” I ask when he doesn't elaborate.
“I just want to practice intimacy with my wife,” he says, his gaze steady on mine. “Is that weird?”
“Yes, it is weird.”
“Why is it weird?”
“Because we have a timetable for stuff like this.”
Instead of answering, he shifts along the cushions, shuffling closer to where I am seated at the edge of the sofa. He looks down at me, his eyes darkening with an expression I recognize instantly.
“I am talking about other intimate things a man and his wife would do,” he murmurs. The low, gravelly pitch of his voice sends a strong shiver straight down my spine.
“What do you mean?” The question comes out breathless and weak.
“We could touch,” he says, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “So when the kids are around, whatever intimacy we practice doesn’t seem off.”
The words echo in the space between us. Instantly, my mother’s advice blasts through my thoughts: What if you use this chance to make him fall in love with you?
A sudden wave of courage takes hold of me. I set my MacBook down on the center table, the glass clicking softly. I reach up and release the plastic clasp from my hair, letting the light brown strands tumble free over my shoulders. I remove my glasses, placing them beside the computer, and stand up.
A game of seduction. If that edge in his voice earlier truly was jealousy, then I can pull this off. I take a slow, deliberate step toward him.
“Do you think your lap can pull my weight?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave.
He offers no verbal reply. His jaw tightens. I reach out, my index finger slowly tracing the sharp line of his throat, feeling the sudden, hard gulp beneath his skin. I smile.
He finally gives a low murmur. “Hmmm.”
“I see,” I whisper in a sultry manner, stepping closer until my knees brush the edge of the couch. “You see, as husband and wife...”
I shift my weight, climbing onto his good thigh, positioning myself directly above his groin. A low moan escapes his chest. Before I can settle, his large hand shoots forward, his fingers clamping tightly around my behind, pulling me flush against him. A small yelp escapes my lips.
“As husband and wife?” he repeats, throwing my own words back to me, his grip tightening.
“We should have been intimate more times than we have been,” I say, holding his gaze.
“Mmm. I see.”
“So, what do you say I satisfy myself,” I say, shifting slightly, feeling the rigid heat rising against the denim of his jeans, “and you very obviously satisfy yourself, too?”
A strangled sound catches in his throat.
I lean in, bringing my face close until the tips of our noses almost touch. My lips hover a fraction of an inch from his.
I see the distinct hesitation ripple across his features.
His gaze flickers, the internal conflict pulling tight at the corners of his eyes.
I can practically feel the question forming on his tongue, the uncertainty rising between us.
Before he can find the words to speak it aloud, I cut through the doubt and ask him myself.
“What about your love?” I ask. The bitterness rolls off my tongue before I can stop it, souring the heat between us.
He stares at me, his breathing heavy and ragged, his chest rising and falling against mine. “Yes,” he pants, his eyes locked on my face. “I think she is doing the exact same thing with her husband, don’t you think?”
He nods, his focus on my mouth. “Yes.”
He leans forward to close the remaining distance, his lips parting. I lift my hand, pressing my index finger firmly against his lips, stopping him in his tracks. I softly push him back against the cushions.
He blinks, confused. “What?”
“Well, I just want to tease you a bit.”
A loud groan escapes him, his hands shifting to wrap around my waist, holding me securely against his chest. “I see. Haven’t you done enough?”
“What are we doing, Cody?” I ask, the playfulness draining from my voice.
“We are practicing, Rain.”
“What are we practicing for?”
“I don’t know what we are practicing for,” he says, his eyelids growing heavy as he looks up at me.
“If this is practice for you,” I whisper, the last of my restraint snapping, “I’ll tell you what it isn’t for me.”
I lean down and capture his mouth, kissing him as if my very survival depends on it. A year of pent-up frustration pours into the movement. I release the anger from the weekend, the bitterness of his confession, and the ache of being ignored into the press of my lips against his.
My mother’s voice flashes through my mind again, warning me to stay in control.
I attempt to withdraw, pulling my head back, but his hand instantly shoots to the back of my head.
His fingers tangle in my hair, locking me in place, while his other arm clamps around my waist, pulling me down for dear life as he takes over the kiss.