“Then what was it about?” she asked. He pulled her to the bed and sat next to her, making sure to keep hold of her hand.
“It was about me realizing even more how much you really don’t need me,” he confessed. Her hand tightened around his.
“That’s not true, Owe—”
“It is.” He shrugged. “You’ve basically been doing this on your own, babe. The girls, the house, big decisions.”
“I do need you,” she told him, and his heart clenched. She had needed him and he had dropped the ball, but he was willing to try and pick it back up.
“That look okay to you?” he asked, pointing at the list, and she smiled at him before looking toward the paper in her hand, her head resting on his shoulder.
“A thirty-day challenge, huh?” she asked with a raised brow.
“What do you think?” he wondered, observing her nervously.
“You came up with these?” she asked, a smile clear in her voice.
“I looked at a couple different ones and got ideas from there.”
“And you think things like looking in each other’s eyes for ten minutes and daily walks are going to help?” Her voice was a mix of surprise and hesitation.
“I don’t think they’ll hurt,” he confessed. He didn’t know if it would work, but he would give anything a shot. “In every challenge I found, the tasks had one thing in common: spending time together and making that time count.” She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Being present hasn’t been my strong suit. But I am going to work on it. I promise.”
“Okay.” Her face broke into a shy smile, and his heart flipped in his chest at the sight of it. “I guess it’s not as hard as it sounds,” she agreed, and he grinned.
“You really up for it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked him; it was his turn to show his own vulnerabilities.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know if you wanted to go see a marriage counselor or…”
“Or what?” Her body was fully turned to him as he spoke.
“Or call it a day and have us go our own way.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Owen.” She shook her head, and he couldn’t help it. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her over him as he lay on his back in bed. “I don’t want a divorce,“ she stated; he winced at the ‘D’ word.
“I was scared I had fucked this up beyond repair,” he admitted.
“This isn’t only on you, Owen. I have faults. I was just as responsible—”
“You don’t—”
“Baby.” She stilled in his arms, tucking her hair behind her ears. He looked at her. Her dark brown eyes filled with something that looked like fear, and he wanted to wash it away. “I got lost,” she uttered in a tone that told him that admission had been hard for her to voice, but before he could ask more, she kept talking. “Instead of asking you for help, I got even more lost. Like I was digging myself in deeper and deeper into a hole.”
“Maybe you did ask and I was just too fucking busy to listen?” he offered, but she shook her head.
“I wish I could blame it all on you,” she joked; he knew she was just trying to lighten the mood. “But this”—she pointed back and forth between them—”is on both of us. I’m…”
“You’re what, babe?” he pried hoping to get a deeper view into what she was feeling. That way, he could figure out how to help fix things.
“I feel lost.”
“How?” His fingers stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes to his touch.
“I don’t know who I am anymore, Owen. I mean, I know it sounds stupid but—”
“It’s not stupid. You are going to feel however the hell you feel.”
“After the girls were born and your career took off, I just… I feel like I’ve been on hold. Does that make sense?” The vulnerability that shimmered back at him shocked him. He didn’t want to sound like an asshole, but he wasn’t about to lie either.
“A little,” he answered honestly. He might not completely understand, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know where her head was at more than his next breath.
“It’s not that I regret staying home. I love that I was there. I had the privilege to watch our girls grow. But they’re older now, and it’s not like we’re having any more.”
“We’re not?” he asked without thinking. Her eyes flashed slightly. Somehow the idea of not having any more kids made him sad.
“We never talked about it, and I mean, the girls are eight now. The idea of starting over with a baby…”
He shook his head. “It’s not the right time to even talk about this. It was a stupid question.”
“No such things as stupid questions,” she whispered, kissing him lightly on his lips. “I want to be more than what I’ve been,” she finally said, pulling away, her dark stare pinning him in place.
“I don’t know how that’s possible, Nadia,” he told her and pulled her now stiff body back into his arms. “You’re already everything to me,” he confessed and felt her sigh just before her body melted into his. She nestled into his embrace, and he stroked her back. “So, what do you want to do?” he asked, bracing for her response.
“I think I want to start my own thing,” she said into his chest. “I could do graphic design from home. Maybe do some freelancing, only pick up jobs I want to do. I was good at it before we had the girls.”
She had been better than good; she was an amazing graphic designer.
She had worked till the day she gave birth, her water breaking on the way home from her last day before maternity leave. He had talked her into staying home and not going back to work, selfishly thinking it was what she would want; and he had liked the idea of finally being the one who provided for his family. She had worked her ass off while he had been in medical school; he’d felt it was his time to make things easier for her.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Though, I have to be honest, you’re surprising the hell out of me, Nadi.”
“Why is that?” she asked, a smile in her voice as his hand moved into her thick, soft hair.
“I would have thought you would have wanted to go back to an office.” She rolled off him and stared at him.
“I thought about it. I even applied at a couple of places.” Her confession didn’t surprise him. That was his girl. When she had an idea, she went after it first and apologized later; even if she had nothing to apologize for.
“And?”
“And I remembered the long hours. And you were right. We would have to hire a nanny—”
“And that would be okay. Look, I was an ass before. Lots of people do that, and it works for them.”
“Yeah, it does. But I didn’t want that for our girls or for us. I like my life. I just want something for me. Does that make sense?”
“I get it.” And he did. She was social and liked to be challenged. The girls had been a huge challenge as babies, but now they didn’t need her as much as before. If he knew anything about Nadia, she loved to be needed. “I get it, and when we go back home, I will help however you need me to.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nadia
HE STEPPED INTO THE bathroom as I brushed my teeth in front of the mirror. His large body stood behind mine, and I was instantly glad that I had picked short cotton shorts and a lace-topped camisole to wear to bed. Even with the warm summer weather we were having, I enjoyed the heat that radiated off Owen’s body.
Rinsing my mouth, I stared at the reflection behind me. As I tracked each of his movements, an easy calm settled into my chest and my shoulders fully relaxed. He was dressed in worn navy pajama pants I knew firsthand were probably about five years old but buttery soft; I appreciated the way they hung low on his hips. His bare chest was all my eyes could look at, taking in his broadness and the perfect amount of dark hair that was sprinkled all over, leading toward a tantalizing dark trail running south to a delicious part of him I knew all too well.
Setting my tooth
brush into the holder, I turned the water off and looked right into his green eyes. Without breaking our eye contact, he leaned forward; his warm breath fanned over my bare shoulder and a shiver ran through me. Just like that, desire hit me like a Mack truck. My thighs clenched together, my breasts felt heavy, and my nipples ached with need as they stiffened into two peaks.
“Owen,” I whimpered as his hand wrapped around me from behind and the wet heat from his mouth touched the skin on my shoulder. I broke out in goose bumps from head to toe.
“Hmm…” his voice rumbled, but he didn’t stop. He kept giving me open-mouthed kisses, from my shoulder up to my neck.
“Owen… Babe…” I swallowed hard trying to get control of my breathing and not minding when I failed.
“Shh…” he murmured. I couldn’t keep my head up. When I let it fall back, he held on to me. I knew if my knees went any weaker than they already were, he would hold me up. He always had. The realization made me stand straighter. A lightbulb turned on in my brain. I turned around in his arms.
“What—”
“I love you,” I announced, not withholding the words. Life was too short to not say the words out loud.
“Nad—”
“I love you and I’m sorry.” I was. I should have told him how I felt, but I hadn’t found the words before. I had been lost in my own head, year after year. I was the one who had pasted on fake smiles time and time again, not communicating my own needs.
“Honey—”
“I should have talked to you.” My voice was thick, and I needed to touch him.
I missed being close to him.
I needed to have my hands all over him.
Just as much as I needed his on me.
My hands rushed under his shirt and pulled it up his torso. Thankfully, his hands got into the mix. I stepped back, soaking in the sight. He graciously helped me pull it over his head, and damn if the sight of him doing it, letting it fall haphazardly to the ground, didn’t make me hungrier. Needier.
I raked my nails down his pecs to his flat stomach. A thrill shot up my spine as I watched his abs contract. I loved when they did that.
“Fuck,” he hissed deeply, and I felt incredibly powerful. Feminine. Sexy. A lot more than I had in a very long time.
Licking my lips, I grazed my fingers downward, following the soft trail of dark hair toward the waistband of his pants, but before I could slip my hand in and reach for the very hard and thick prize waiting for me, I found my wrists in his hands, and my back was suddenly pinned against the wall of the bathroom.
“What…” I gasped looking up at him, not missing the way his gaze burned, singeing my skin with exquisite heat.
“You aren’t going to touch me,” he announced, and I felt slightly confused while extremely turned on.
“What? Why not?” I stuttered. He leaned in closer, so close I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. Instead, he made me whimper with lust. His nose skimmed the side of my face and down my neck, teasing my senses, making my thighs clench tightly.
“Do you remember when we first met?” he asked, his voice like gravel in my ear, rough and scratchy, only adding fuel to my need.
“Of course, I do. First day of…” I started to say, but he hushed me and I stopped talking.
“Remember how I didn’t let you touch me then either?” he reminded me, and I looked at him.
“Baby…” I had no words. I swallowed hard, my eyes pinned on his sage-green ones, and let the memories rush back.
We had been together for a week or two, nothing more than hot and heavy make-out sessions that had led to touching and further until he found out I was a virgin. He didn’t want to push me into anything, reminding me over and over that I wasn’t ready.
At the beginning, he was right and ultimately, I was thankful. Young, raging hormones flying, I would have given something that at the end of the day I had not been ready to give. Never, not once in those months, almost a year, of waiting did I worry what we did do wasn’t enough for him. He always let me know what I meant to him.
You’re everything to me. You’re it for me, he told me over and over, and I wondered how the hell he knew that at eighteen, but he did. Thankfully, as much as a gentleman as he was, a saint he wasn’t. We messed around. A Lot. Hands and mouths, hell, even toys. Everything we did together more beautiful and hotter than the last time. In the almost year we had taken to move our relationship to that level, we had spent it getting to know one another and our bodies better than we had known our own.
“Please tell me you aren’t planning on waiting a year this time,” I muttered, ignoring how whiney I sounded as his face changed. A wolfish grin spread over his face and his eyes darkened with promise.
“Not a year,” he taunted, sensually nuzzling my sensitive skin. How long had it been since he had done this? Taken his time with me? Seduced me?
“How long?” I asked as a mewl escaped from deep inside me when his lips touched my neck so damn softly it made my head swim. My blood bubbled and heated up, making my body ache for more.
“I don’t know,” he murmured lowly against my skin. “I just know that right now,”—his nose nuzzled the shell of my ear—“right here, this part of us… has to be about you.”
“Owen—”
“Shhh… let me make you feel good,” he proposed, and I licked my lips. It sounded so good, but I wanted to play, too. I wanted to touch and explore him. I wanted to make him desperate for more of me.
“Why can’t we both touch each other?” I asked. His and his hands tightened around my wrists. I fought from grinning, knowing I had struck a nerve. He loved when I talked dirty to him. “I want to make you feel good too, Owen,” I whispered, my voice softer than usual, and his head dipped to my collarbone, a distinctive hardness nudging at my belly.
“Nadia,” he warned me, and I arched my chest into his. His head popped up, his lips crashing onto mine. I squirmed and writhed, aching to have him lose control so I could have my fill of him, but he didn’t.
“Owen…” I started to protest, but my words diminished as one of his large, strong hands held both my wrists, while his other cupped my breast over my camisole before he roughly pulled it up and squeezed.
“Fuck.” His hiss sent shivers all over my body. “Love how you feel in my hands.” He sounded like he was talking to himself as his lips moved down my neck and to my collarbone. “You ever think of changing your body, I’ll tie you to our bed.”
“Owen.” I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m fucking serious, Nadia.” He licked and bit the tip of my straining nipple before he looked back up at me. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not,” I immediately bit back, feeling unsure about being in this position with him. The lights were turned on, and I couldn’t even remember what panties I had put on under my cotton shorts. When was the last time I had trimmed up down there? It wasn’t a jungle, but it was far from a neatly mowed lawn.
“Stop,” he snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked at him—really looked at him—and I scowled.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking.”
“You can’t just tell me—”
“Whatever shit you’re thinking about is obviously just that. Shit.” He scowled. I realized he had let go of my wrists above my head and was now holding me at my waist. I frowned.
“I’m not perfect, though,” I pushed again, feeling the overwhelming, extremely unnecessary need to argue with him. I was done trying to carry the illusion of what my body once looked like; he had to realize I would never look like that again. I didn’t want to. “I don’t look like I did when we first got together!” I awkwardly blurted out, too loudly, and he stilled, his green eyes shining with obvious surprise.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled, but it was like I couldn’t stop.
“I will never have that body again. Not even if I killed myself at the gym. After the girls… shit changed, Owen, and I know I don’t look like the women you
create—”
“I don’t want perfect,” he stated. I laughed.
“Right!” I scoffed, knowing very well I was completely ruining the sexy mood we had just been in. “That’s why you always point out how I shouldn’t eat crap or graciously remind me that a trip to the gym wouldn’t hurt? Or how cupcakes are extra calories I really don’t need?”
“I don’t do that,” he gritted; his cheeks reddened, but I kept going.
If we were going to bring our relationship back to life, I had to be honest. This ugly part of us had to come out from the darkness and into the light because there was no way I could keep burying my head in the sand about it. Not if we were serious about fixing things and sticking together for the long run.
“You do that shit all the time!” I semi-shouted and took a deep breath realizing I was shaking, finally letting what his words had done, how they affected me, purge from within. “You do that all the time and in front of people.”
“I… no… I—”
“Simone, Paul… our family! Hell, you just did it when we talked about going to dinner when you picked up Vivi and I suggested going to Pink’s!”
“Baby—”
“I had a moment. I wasn’t going to do it. But it made sense in that moment. Why not call to find out about having a mommy makeover? You make perfect women every day,” I pointed out before stomping out of the bathroom, knowing he was right behind me. Standing by the bed, I looked at him and opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.
“Nadi—” he tried to interrupt my rant, but I wasn’t going to have it. Not anymore.
“And I’m not perfect. I wasn’t before kids, and you know what, Owen? I’m sure as shit not going to be after seven years! I like food. I love desserts. And wine! But I work out. I’m active. But I’m not about to kill myself at the gym and starve myself so that I can look like the women in magazines or the ones you create!”
“I don’t—” he started, but it was time to put it all out there.
“And on top of that, I don’t want our girls to have the image you help boost ingrained into their heads of what they’re supposed to look like!”
Something Worth Saving Page 11
