Chapter 27
AYLA
My heart is knocking against my ribs. I take note of Carson’s creased forehead, unblinking eyes, and tense mouth. He looks as anxious as I feel. “No.”
He expels air through barely parted lips and closes his eyes briefly. “So… we’re going to do this?”
“We need to talk about what ‘this’ looks like.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Okay. Tell me what you want.”
“It’s not what I want. It’s what’s best for us. For both of us.”
He lowers his chin.
“Let’s spend time together. Let’s go on dates. I’m thinking of going back to school.”
“Yeah?” His eyes brighten. “That’s great, Ayla.”
“Well. It means I’ll be busy: classes, homework, all that stuff.”
“Okay. Okay, I get it. I’ll help.”
“Thank you. I’m going to need support. Not just for school, but for when I have to tell my family no.”
“Oh yeah. Jesus. I’m there for you.”
“Thank you. But remember… I want your support. I don’t need you to fix things for me.”
“Right.”
“Grandpa’s not going to be happy when I tell him. I might be able to work a bit, but not like I have been.”
Carson makes a face. “Yeah. I’ve got your back.”
“Maybe we should hold off on moving back in together.”
His eyebrows twitch toward each other. “I’ll be honest, I don’t like that, but if that’s what you think is best, we’ll do it.”
“I think I still want to sell the house. Would you be okay with that?”
He inclines his head. And thinks. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I’m okay with it. I didn’t expect to ever live there again anyway.”
“We could find somewhere else… together.”
“Yeah. You could move in with me in my apartment.”
I blink. “Uh… that’s a possibility.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“True.”
“I’m kidding. It’s small. One bedroom, and that bedroom barely fits my bed, let alone anything else.”
“Why are you living in such a small place?”
He shrugs. “It was the right neighborhood and I could move in right away. I don’t care what it looks like.”
And I was living in our five-bedroom, four-bathroom house with a three-car garage. This makes me sad.
“I feel bad,” I tell him. “That’s not fair. You let me have the house and you pay me lots of spousal support.”
“I just wanted you to be okay.” He meets my eyes. “I’d do anything for you, Ayla.”
My heart squeezes, then swells up.
We’ve finished our brunch, the table has been cleared, and the bill is sitting there.
“Ready to go?” Carson asks.
“Yep.”
He gestures to the server and takes care of the bill and we walk back to my place where we left his car. I’m bundled up in a puffy jacket and a big scarf; the temperature’s barely above freezing, but the sun is bright.
As we walk up the sidewalk to the front door, I say, “My therapist told me I should have sex with other men.”
Carson stops dead and stares down at me. “What the fuck.”
“I was talking to her about why I was still so attracted to you.” I keep walking and climb the steps to the door. He’s right behind me.
“And that’s what she told you to do?” His voice rises with incredulity.
“Well, sort of. First, she said to create some distance between us. That was kind of hard when we were sharing a cottage.” I unlock the door and step inside.
“Uh, yeah.”
He follows and closes the door.
I unwrap my scarf. “And she said to… I think her exact words were to relearn who am I as a sexual person without you.”
“Fuck.” He moves closer. “Did you do that?”
I take off my jacket. “Sort of.”
He sets his hands on my waist. “What does that mean?”
“She said the idea was to rediscover pleasure and intimacy outside my relationship with you.”
His eyes blaze at me. He pulls me closer. Butterfly wings flutter in my belly.
“Ah.”
“I told her I couldn’t have sex with someone else.”
His eyes darken. “Why not?”
“Because I wasn’t interested in anyone else. So she said I should consider masturbating regularly.”
His eyelids lower and his mouth twitches. He bends his head closer to me. “Did you do that?” he murmurs.
“So much.”
He smiles. “Yeah?”
I wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me against him. “Yeah.”
“Show me.”
My eyes go wide. He kisses my cheek.
“Show you what?”
“Show me how you masturbated.”
Inner muscles clench on a flood of heat.
I give him a flirty look from under my eyelashes. “Okay.” I turn, take his hand and lead him up the stairs. “Tessa… my therapist… told me that I was still attracted to you because while we were together, my body created strong associations between you and sex.”
“Hmmm. I like that.”
“And because sex is so intimate, it creates even stronger memories than, like, eating dinner together.” I lead him into my bedroom—our bedroom.
When I turn to face him, he’s shedding his jacket and tossing it on a chair. “That makes sense.”
I pull off my turtleneck sweater, revealing my sheer black bra. “I don’t know. I think the reason I was still attracted to you was because…” I’m distracted by his hot, hungry gaze roving over my breasts. My nipples tighten into hard points.
He steps closer and undoes the button and zipper of my jeans. “Because why?”
I set my hands on his chest. “Because I still love you.”
His slides his hands inside my jeans and around to my ass, his expression smug. “That makes sense, too.”
“I think so.”
“I guess that explains why I want to fuck you until you can’t see straight.”
My belly flip-flops and a little moan escapes my lips.
He bends his head and kisses the side of my neck, sucking the flesh so gently into his mouth.
“Yes. That explains it.”
“I love you, too, Ayla. So much.”
He looks at me. Looks at my mouth. His eyelids lower and then he kisses me while he pushes my jeans down and oh God, his mouth.
I love the taste of him, the thrill of his tongue pushing into my mouth again and again, turning me on, melting me.
I glide my fingers into his hair and kiss him back, slow and deep, sliding my tongue along his, breathing him in, tasting him. A moan climbs up my throat.
“So good,” I breathe. “So good.”
“Yeah.”
We both get rid of our clothes and I press myself against him. He’s rock solid against me, his chest, his abs. His cock.
My chest fills with effervescent mirth and a laugh breaks free of my mouth against his.
He pulls back, eyebrows up, lips quirked. “Something funny?”
“Y-yes.” Another laugh escapes me. “Yesterday, I went to this antiques sale with Rachel and there was this—” Another giggle finds its way out. “This sculpture… of a man.”
“Uh huh.”
“It was called B-Barbaro Boner.” I collapse against him in laughter again.
“Ah.” He cups the back of my head. I hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I think I’m getting the picture.”
“I wish I’d taken a picture! You should have seen his boner! It was massive! And very lifelike. And then I told Rachel th-that he reminded me of you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Jesus.”
“She was very jealous.” I lift my head and wipe a tear from my eye. “I’m sorry. I really killed the mood, didn’t I?”
“Nope.” He grins at me. “I love fucking you and laughing with you.”
“I love that, too.”
“And my boner is still massive.” He moves his hips against me.
I choke out a little laugh. “It is.” I reach for it and curl my hand around it. “I love your cock.”
He makes a rough noise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I stroke him and he starts nudging me toward the bed. He yanks back the covers with one hand then eases me down to the mattress, coming down over me. His mouth is on mine again, and it’s so hot. So intoxicating. He sucks slowly and deliberately on my tongue and I’m on fire.
I slide my hands over him, through his silky hair, over the rough edge of his jaw. His pure physical energy is powerful. Seductive. “I missed you.”
“Fuck, I missed you, too. Christ, Ayla. I love you so much.”
He moves his mouth to my neck, kissing, sucking so gently, licking his way down to between my breasts.
He pulls a nipple into his mouth and sucks hungrily, provoking a deep pulsing need low in my belly.
I hold onto his head as he moves back and forth between my breasts, then licks a path down over my stomach. My pussy quivers.
He rises up onto his knees, between my spread legs, and his gaze drops to my pussy. Oh God.
“Show me,” he says, voice rough and raw.
My chin goes up, my eyes fall closed. I slide my hand down the same path his tongue just took, into my wetness. I lick over my bottom lip and he groans.
“Look at you. Look how wet you are.”
I open my eyes and his gaze is like fire licking over my body. I slip a finger inside myself then pull it out to rub over my clit. I cup my breast with my other hand.
“Fuuuuck.”
His heated attention adds a dark thrill to my strokes, increases the sensations swirling inside me, hot and twisty.
“Do you want to come?” he rasps out.
My gaze is fastened on his cock, and when he wraps his hand around it, my inner muscles clench hard. “I want you inside me.”
“You want this?” He shakes his cock.
“Yes. I want you to fuck me.”
“I want to see you come.”
“Ohhhhh…” I move my fingers faster. “Yes…” Pleasure grows in my core, a sweet, hot coil.
Then he pushes two fingers inside me, curving them up. I gasp.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “So wet.”
A thousand stars burst inside me, sending sparkles to my toes and fingers, sending me flying.
Before it’s even finished, he pulls his fingers out and glides his cock into me. He thrusts over and over and my orgasm goes on and on, throbbing sensations echoing through every nerve ending.
He grabs my thighs and stares down at me, first my face, then where we’re joined, watching his cock slide in and out, then back to my face.
His jaw tightens, his eyes go hazy and his abs contract and then he comes, too, filling me with heat, shouting his pleasure, holding his body tight against me as he pulses inside me.
I don’t know why I want to cry. Emotion clogs my throat as he lowers himself over me and kisses me. I hold onto his shoulders. This is… him. The man I want to be with forever. My love.
My husband.
We hold each other for a long time. The light in the room fades as the sun lowers.
“I love you,” he says, kissing my temple.
“I love you, too.”
“I know I lost you because of my stupid need to control things.”
My chest tightens. I stroke a hand over his shoulder and down his arm.
“When I feel helpless, I get anxious.”
I give a tiny nod.
“But… fixing things was me trying to make myself feel better.”
“Oh.” I blink at him. “I don’t know—”
“It’s true.”
“Okay, maybe. But I think it’s also because you care so much.”
“Maybe. Yeah.” His chest rises and falls on a deep breath.
“I know you do. You’re private, and protective. And controlling.”
He snorts.
“But you’re also thoughtful. You’re patient. Gentle. Hard working.”
He coughs. “Thank you.”
“As for me… I’ve been using everyone else’s needs to avoid working on myself.”
“Ayla. You’re beautiful. Inside and out. There’s nothing to work on.”
“Yeah, there is. There always is. But I’m figuring it out.
I can’t keep doing things for people and then getting frustrated when they don’t acknowledge it.
I can’t keep taking things on and then complain that it’s too much.
I can’t depend on other people to feel validated.
That has to come from me. I need to work on that. ”
“We’ll help each other.”
“Yeah.”
After a quiet moment, he says, “Remember the song we danced to at the birthday party?”
“Um…” I think back. “It was a country song.” I remember being moved by it.
“Yeah. It was called “I’ll Love You Better’.”
“Riiiight.” I gaze into his eyes. “I noticed the words. The story. And I… wanted you to say those things to me. That you missed me and loved me.”
“And that I’ll love you better. I want to love you better.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I will love you better.”
My throat aches. “Me, too. Remember what Nonna said: sometimes, we get a chance to do something right the second time that we didn’t get right the first time.”
“Yeah.” He presses his lips to my hand again.
“We’re not the same people we were. We’re not going back.”
“Nope. This is a new beginning.”