38. Chapter 38
Nate
Icatch Grace before she can fall off the toilet. She’s in my arms a second later, her skin cool to the touch, her eyes glazed, her face a mess of fluids. The surge of bliss that accompanied my first time taking her mouth evaporates immediately.
“Grace,” I say, carrying her to the bathroom counter.
I settle her in the familiar spot between the two sinks.
She sits silently, her eyes unseeing. With dawning horror, I examine her.
Her limbs are almost slack, her pupils tight and small.
Worst of all, when I cup my hand to check between her legs, she’s dry.
For the first time since marrying me, Grace is unaroused by something I’ve done to her.
Fuck.
I’ve pushed her too far. There was no way for her to safe-word when my cock was down her throat, my hands controlling her movements.
And I was too goddamn lost in the perfection of the moment to check in with her properly.
I should have stopped. I should have told her she could tap out—literally, just smack me on the leg—and I would have stopped.
That should have been part of our negotiation, but I didn’t even think of it.
I didn’t want to think of it. I was too eager to punish her.
What kind of a husband am I?
Shoving the question away, I retrieve a dry towel. She needs me right now, not my guilt and stupidity. I wrap my girl up and peer into her face. Her lips are parted and swollen, her nose is red. She needs a shower and a warm bed and a better man than me.
Shame pricks at me from within as I pull her close, burying my face in her hair. She still smells like the sun. Like the sea. Like hard work and good health and newborn lambs.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” I whisper, though I shouldn’t. The words are obscene.
She responds with a tiny sound, something like a sigh. “Is it—is it over?”
Fuck—fuck—FUCK.
“Yes, love. It’s all over. You were so good, so brave.
I’m…” I can’t say I’m proud of her. I’m not.
Because I know I went too far, and she didn’t even know how to tap out.
She was good and brave and fucking perfect.
I was a monster. “Let’s get you into the shower, okay?
I’ll take care of everything. You just—you just lean on me, if you can. ”
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice thick as if her throat hurts.
I want to punch myself in the face. She’s not fine, and she shouldn’t feel as if she has to lie to me.
I have failed her completely if this is her reaction to my overstepping.
She should be screaming. Giving me the smackdown I absolutely deserve.
Throwing shit and breaking things. Then… then she should leave me.
“Can I take you into the shower, Grace? I’ll wash you, that’s all. No other touching.”
She nods her consent, and I run the shower until it’s warm. I say nothing as I work shampoo then conditioner into her hair, as I scrub the day from her body. I whisper to her the whole time, every action accompanied by words.
I love you, Grace…
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
I might be a monster… but I love you…
She listens, her swollen lips parted though she doesn’t answer.
I dry us both off then carry her to bed.
She’s lying there, damp hair fanned out on the pillow, big eyes dark in the half-light, the sheet tucked up under her chin, when a memory slinks into my mind. Another woman in a narrower bed, chest rising and falling painfully, trying to breathe a few minutes longer, while Nick and I—
“Are you okay, big heart?” Grace asks, and I think I might break.
I’ve damaged the woman I love and I need to fix everything forever. And I can’t.
“Grace,” I whisper, seating myself beside her on the edge of the bed. I don’t touch her. I don’t deserve to. “What I did to you was beyond anything I can apologise for, and—”
“It’s fine, Nate,” she says, smiling gently, her eyes present but sleepy.
I want to believe her. She’s settled back into herself in a way I recognise, quick to shake off the horror of what I’ve done. Somehow, that makes it worse.
“It’s not fine,” I answer, my voice raw and weak. “It’s not fucking fine, Grace. I—I violated you and you didn’t want it. Don’t tell me you did—I know your history. And I didn’t tell you how to stop me, and—”
She sits up, her fingertips pressing over my lips. “Do you think I’m stupid, Nate?”
I frown against her hand. Before I can brush her fingers aside and assert that, no, I’m well-aware that she’s fucking brilliant, she continues.
“If I needed to stop you, I’d have stopped you. I didn’t like it and I won’t do it again anytime soon, but I could have stopped you.”
I pull away. “Not when I’d fucked up the safe word, Grace. Not when I told you I would leave you alone here tomorrow if—”
I stop. The tears have overspilled. I turn my face away, readying myself to get up. I need space. She needs space. We need to go to separate corners to cool off.
Before I can leave, Grace sits up, the sheets falling to reveal her—naked and silvery in the moonlight seeping through the sliding doors.
She grabs my shoulders, pulling until I’m lying on top of her, my lips against her neck.
My tears land on her skin as she murmurs to me the way I should be doing for her.
Telling me she’s fine, that mistakes happen, that if I’m a monster I’m her monster.
I slide off her, unsure of how to hold her without being sexual.
“Shhh, turn around, Nate.”
I obey, then she’s spooning up behind me, her arm around my waist, her breath whispering along my neck.
I shiver. I should get up and finish her aftercare.
I should go work off this grief and guilt on my own.
But my wife is petting me, her small, warm hand running down my side in long, languid caresses.
“I have you,” she whispers, and something I buried along with my mother comes to life. I turn over, cuddle in close, and let myself get utterly lost in my wife.
***
The last thing I want is to share Grace.
Even a few hours with Mihi, a few minutes with Eileen, a second with the Munchausen bitch—it’s too much.
Especially after last night. The time is like a deficit that’ll never be corrected, and the prospect of introducing her to the people in the Auckland office is enough to make me a grumpy fuck the next morning.
Never mind that we spent half the night with my cock buried between her legs.
The sheets are streaked with the evidence.
I strip them off quickly, remembering how a sleepy, gorgeous Grace accepted me again and again into her body, falling asleep to the slow thrust of my half-hard cock, both of us spent yet connected.
It erased some of my horror at what I did to her in the bathroom, but now all I can think about is her face after I used her so horribly.
Grace, though, is all smiles this morning, clearly excited to be getting out of the house. After putting on fresh sheets and tossing the soiled ones into the washer, I find her and Shep in the kitchen, sharing some whipped cream from last night’s dessert.
“Just look at my spoiled two,” I say, enjoying my wife’s tiny jump of surprise.
“Poor baby,” she turns the dog’s great head to face me, “he’s all worried. He knows we’re leaving.”
“Worried you won’t give him the last of that cream.” I pat Shep, then give Grace a kiss on the cheek. I search for any lingering damage from yesterday, for shadows in her eyes, but all I see is eagerness. “Ready to go, little heart?”
“I guess. He’ll be okay while we’re gone?”
“More than okay. He’ll catch up on sleep in between getting spoiled by Mihi. Did she confirm she’ll come by?”
Grace nods then gives the beast a kiss.
“Enough of that.” I snap my fingers for Shep to head out of the doggy door.
Grace doesn’t call me on my obvious jealousy, but her carefree smile falls as he leaves.
I catch her eye. “We could just stay home, love. No need to head in if you’ve changed your mind.
Last night was… a lot. We should probably discuss it in more detail. ”
Her smile snaps back into place. My stomach clenches, and I have the urge to cancel everything, head back to bed, and sort this out properly.
Grace leads the way, chattering through that smile about how good it’ll be to see the city, to get a look at where I work, and so on.
I stow my suspicion; if she trusts me enough to let me fuck her all night, then I need to trust her to come to Auckland today.
I resolve to keep an extra tight hold on her regardless—as any good husband would.
The long drive is quiet. I’m about to ask if, like me, she’s thinking about the first time we made this trip together, but a look at the passenger seat reveals that she’s asleep.
Between glances at the road, I look at the shadow of her lashes on her cheeks, the little frown lines between her eyes as she dreams. I decide that today will be about smiles rather than tears, and that we’ll enjoy Auckland as a proper married couple, open to the world at last.
***
It’s beyond easy to introduce Grace to the office.
Dare meets us at the door with a huge smile and a bouquet of lilies, which he offers with a sheepish smile.
I’m a bit floored to see the guy has any game, given his tendency towards hyperfixation and awkwardness, and I cover my moment of jealousy by asserting on my wife’s behalf that lilies are a no-no.
Grace is sweet about the mix-up, and offers Dare a quick hug in both thanks and apology.