by L. B. Dunbar
“You’re not answering my question,” I circle back.
“What was the question?”
“Are you still my wife?”
“I’m undecided,” she says, and the comment strikes hard. I nod once, deflecting again because I don’t wish to get into it at the Pub. I’m reminded of when I propositioned her about sleeping with me, and her undecided didn’t mean no. It also didn’t mean yes.
“I’ve decided I want to find you in my bed when I get home tonight.”
“Demanding much?” Her lids lower, but she looks at me underneath her lashes. I’d like to demand all kinds of things from her.
“I mean it, Peach. I want you to stay.”
“For how long?” she asks, and we’re returning to the start of this conversation.
Forever, whispers through my heart, but I don’t admit that yet. I don’t feel I have the right to ask.
“Let’s just take it day by day,” I state, and that statement doesn’t feel right. Does she want more time? Do we need to set a limit? If it doesn’t feel like it’s working in a day, a week, a month, what will that mean?
“I’m struggling in the house.”
“Why? What happened?” I ask before taking a bite of my burger.
“It’s going to sound silly, but I thought I heard something earlier, and it freaked me out.”
I stare at her. “Like what?”
“Just Silver, but the memories in my head, I don’t like them.” She looks down at her plate again as if guilt mixes with her admission. “I don’t think it’s healthy to be there.”
“You don’t want to remember things?” My voice cracks, choking on the burger bite in my mouth. Does she want to forget all of it? Or just me?
“I don’t mind the memories, but I can’t let them haunt me.” Her eyes zero in on my face.
“And you think I have?” I counter, feeling the edge to fight with her building again.
“I don’t know what you think. We aren’t talking about anything yet.”
I swallow the heavy bite in my throat, setting down my burger as though I’m throwing down a gauntlet. “I think you need to be in our bed when I get home. I think I’m going to lick you until you cry my name, and then I think I’m going to fuck you into remembering all the good things.”
She blinks at me, eyes hooded again, and I want to reach under the table and press my hand at her center to feel how hot she is.
“I think you’ve changed,” she says, her voice low, but she isn’t wrong.
“And?” I prompt once more.
“And I think I need time to figure out if I like the change.” She’s had six years, I want to say, but I remember those years are between us because of me, and we haven’t been together during that time. “It’s going to take more than fucking me on the counter to bring me back here.”
Jesus. She’s the one who’s changed, and I like the assertive dirty talk.
“Okay. Challenge accepted,” I say, picking up my burger and taking another bite. After I chew, I say to her, “We can kiss on it in a minute.”
And within fifteen, I have her pressed up against the side of her Jeep, letting the entire town see me reclaiming my wife because she’s returned to town, and I’m not letting her leave this time.
+ + +
I don’t find Evie in our bed when I get home around midnight. Instead, she’s in the shower, just standing there, letting the water run over her. I can see her through the foggy glass doors, taking in the outline of her body. She’s curvy where she needs to be, full in other places, and firm in her ass. I crack the door, and Evie slowly turns to face me as if she was expecting me.
“Whatcha doing in here?” I ask, staring at her wet form, watching water cascade in rivulets down her body.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“More noises?” I question, wondering if she heard something else. I’ve had moments like that, memories dancing in my head when I hear Michael call out Dad.
“Just memories.” Her voice is sad, and I wonder if being here is too much for her, after all. She looks up at me, her eyes cautious, and I step into the shower, clothes and all.
“James,” she shrieks, but I have her pressed up to the steamy tile, and my mouth plastered to hers in seconds. That kiss on the sidewalk wasn’t nearly enough to satiate me for the rest of the night.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I mutter against her mouth, feeling all my anger and all my fear rolling out of me as I press against her. My clothes are getting soaked, and her body is slippery. We need to get closer. I tug off my shirt as best I can, hearing the slap of it as it drops to the wet tile floor.
“This is insane,” she says, holding my jaw and bringing her mouth to mine again. She kisses me like she can’t get enough of me, and I never want her to have enough. I never want her fully satisfied, so she comes back for more and more and more. Both my hands cover her breasts, kneading the firmness of them at the same time, squeezing them together.
“What are we doing?” she asks, as I break our kiss and lower my face to those breasts.
“God, I’ve missed your body,” I whisper, ignoring her question before I firmly cup one breast and bring it to my mouth. I suck at her hard, drawing my lips to the hard nip, peaked from the water, and now tighter from my mouth on her. I scrape my teeth over the firm nub, and her fingernails scratch the back of my head. I move to her other breast, sipping water off her body and repeating the suction until I nip her again before my tongue surges forward, mixing with hers. We kiss like this, heavy and hard, as the water pelts our skin.
“Have there been others here?” she says. Quickly, I return to her mouth, tongue surging forward, until she presses at my shoulders, wanting an answer.
“We aren’t going there, Evie. We need to let that part of us go.” I mean it. “I don’t want to discuss that guy, and I’m not sharing stories of other women with you. I’m here. You’re here. It’s only us in this shower.”
“And what about our bedroom?” she questions, her voice dropping as her hands still against my wet chest.
“I never brought anyone here. Never.”
She slowly nods, and her eyes fill with liquid. I don’t want any more tears. We need to start somewhere, and as much as I hate thinking about her fucking that guy, I need to stop. We have to let go of past transgressions.
“I never slept with him,” she clarifies, finally admitting something I never wanted to ask.
Thank fuck.
“We move forward, Peach,” I say to her, cupping her jaw and taking her mouth again. Kissing seems like the only way to assure her. She nods against me as my hands slip down her throat, over her breasts, and slip to her hips. I wedge one hand between us. My fingers curl between her thighs, over her clit, and dip easily into her.
“Fuck, you’re always so ready for me.” She always is. Her hips rock, dragging my thick finger deeper, and I add a second one. She cries out.
“Sore?” This morning, we were out of control, and I don’t know what came over me other than the sheer desire to connect with her. She shakes her head, reaching for my belt, struggling with it under the spray of the shower. Once she has it undone, she unzips my work pants, slips her hands into the edge of my boxer briefs, and shoves everything to my hips, springing my dick free from the soaked confines. Both her hands wrap around me, and my head rolls back. Her thumb coasts over the tip, seeping a bit in eagerness, while her other hand squeezes me at the root, tugging me gently toward her.
“Peach,” I hiss. “That feels so good.” She continues stroking me as I continue fingering her until I feel her quivering against me.
“Getting close, baby?”
I pull back a bit to watch my fingers dipping into her while her hands jerk me. Fuck, we are a sight, and I lift my head to take her mouth again to find her watching me. Her mouth curls in that new way, a sly grin on her face as she knows what she’s doing to me.
“So wet,” I tell her, looking her in the eyes.
“Onl
y for you,” she says, and I’m a man unleashed. My fingers work harder, deeper, faster as my thumb strokes over her clit.
“Give it to me, Peach,” I demand, needing her to get there so I can get into her. Her hips dance, undulating faster over my fingers, and I watch her move in the palm of my hand. She’s squeezing me harder, tugging me tighter, and I can see us both building to a crest. She moans as she comes, sliding down the wall a bit as her knees give, but I have her in my hand, and I’m not stopping until she’s on the brink of a second one.
“James,” she whimpers. I push away her hands, grabbing myself and bending my knees. I thrust upward, easily slipping into her. I grab the back of one thigh and lift her leg high, opening to me, and she screams. Instantly, I feel her coming apart again around me.
Jesus. Has it always been like this? How could I let this go? How will I make her stay?
“That’s it,” I grunt as I plunge into her over and over again. “Only my name on those lips. Only me.”
Her fingers are clutching at my shoulders, sliding to my shoulder blades, holding me against her while my hips move, filling her as deep as I can get, wanting to give her all of me.
“Peach,” I groan, stilling as my lower back pinches, and my balls tighten. My dick surges, jetting off inside her with all that I have in me. I feel like a new man. Like I’m baptized and born again. My entire body tingles with the release, and I’m spent, falling against her a second while pinpricks of silver dots dance before my eyes.
Aftershocks rumble inside her, and she clenches around me. “Woman,” I moan, fighting the urge to profess my love and beg her to return to me. Her hands smooth down my back, and she shivers. I remember we’re still under the shower spray and the water has gone cold. Slipping out of her, I catch her at the waist and lean back. I stare at my wife, hair plastered to the side of her face, eyes bright from two orgasms.
“Bed, Evie.” And I’m thankful she doesn’t want to fight my demand.
+ + +
I hardly sleep that night, rolling into Evie every chance I can get. Just when I think one or the other of us is dozing off, a fingertip traces down an arm or a leg shifts, and I’m stiff again, climbing over her. I’m a man nearing fifty, but I feel like a fifteen-year-old. I can’t get enough of her, and we discover each other over and over again.
By noon, I need to get out of bed and get ready for work, but I’d really like to stay in this sweet cocoon of ignorance and bliss Evie and I have going on. We didn’t share any words other than fuck me, and harder, and you’re so juicy, and I want you again.
We have big things to discuss at some point, like what’s next for us. For now, I’ve bought myself more days as Evie tells me she’d like to stay until the groundbreaking ceremony. She doesn’t ask me to join her again. She makes a decision for herself only. I’d be foolish to believe we can just move forward and pick up where we left off as if the past six years aren’t between us. But it isn’t that easy, even if I lived the past twelve hours pretending it could be that simple.
After my shift, I’m again relieved to find Evie in the house and in our bed. Standing beside it, I take a long minute to look at her sleeping peacefully on her side. Her hair spills behind her on the pillow, and her lips are parted as she breathes in shallow breaths. Her eyelids flutter, and I wonder what she’s dreaming of behind them. I’m thankful every day she doesn’t have the nightmares I do. The sounds in my head. The unforgiving eyes staring back at me. The feel of my son’s sweaty hand.
Taking a deep breath to push away the thoughts, I stare at the mother of my child.
How do I keep you this time?
Once again, I find myself unworthy of this woman, and my conversation with Giant from weeks ago returns.
“You want to win her back, then you need to woo her a bit.” I’d been so flippant that wanting to keep her hadn’t been my intention. I didn’t need to win her. I just wanted to sleep next to her. But I should have known one night would never be enough. I’m a selfish man. I’d want more.
It nearly crushed me to find another man waiting on her in the Lodge lobby the other morning, but when I knew he was gone, it was an eye-opener for me as well as an open door. I’d planned to chase her to Savannah, beg her to come home with me, and promise her I’d do everything she needed.
I hadn’t expected her to turn up at the house with those fucking papers. And I never expected to take her on the counter. Or the shower. Or numerous times last night in our bed.
Evie and I were always crash and crash again, but we needed to slow down. We needed to step back before we burned out.
I needed to earn her back.
As I’m watching her, she shifts, and her lids pop open. She takes a deep breath as though she’s confused where she is for a second, and I lower to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” My voice is rough but quiet, and I reach out to tuck hair behind her ear.
“When did you get home?” she asks. Her sleepy voice is sexy, and my heart hammers in my chest. Home. Can she see this house as her home again? Will she stay in Blue Ridge for longer than another two weeks?
“Only been a few minutes.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after midnight.” It’d been an uneventful night. “I’m going to shower.” I need a minute for some reason. Although I’ve been waiting my entire shift to get back home and fall into this bed with her, I need a second to collect my thoughts before I ravish her again. Before I can move, she sits up, wrapping her arm around my neck and holding me in place. She looks at me for an intense second and then leans forward, pressing her lips to mine. As she slowly draws me into her, thoughts of a shower are forgotten.
Within minutes, we heat, and I’m climbing over her, tugging down the sheet and cupping her breast over my T-shirt she’s wearing. Fuck, I just love her tits and the way they’ve always fit my hand. Her nipple is a sharp point pitching the soft fabric, and I want to touch her skin.
But I stop.
Slow down, buddy.
Pulling back, I look down at her under me.
“I’d like to date you.”
“What?” She chuckles, raking her fingertips over the top of my head through my short hair. I shiver under the sensation, liking the feel of those nails against my scalp. My eyes flutter closed a second.
“I want to date you. I think we should get to know each other again. The new us. The changed us. I know how I feel about you. That will never change, but I want to get us both back to that old feeling.”
Because I’m not certain my wife loves the new me and I don’t think I can go back to the old James. I have changed, but so has she. We are both irrevocably different because we loved and lost Michael, and we need to navigate who we are now.
“What are you proposing?”
“I don’t think we should live together yet.”
Her hand slips from my hair along my cheek and drops from touching me. Fuck. I take a deep breath, continuing on with my plan, hoping she’ll follow me.
“I want you back, but I feel like I need to earn you. I need to make things right between us. We need time.”
Evie shifts, her body language suggesting I get off her, but I don’t move, caging her body in with my legs between hers and my elbows supporting me on either side of her arms. “Time is all we’ve had . . . and wasted.”
I want to disagree with her, but in retrospect, I never wanted her to see me as I was—daring and destructive for a few years. I needed some of that time we spent apart to sort myself out. I had to get my shit together. It’s still not all the way there, but I’m a little better. Day by day, I feel myself being better with her. I need her, more than I considered I didn’t, and I don’t want to lose her again. I don’t want to push her away. I need to do right by her this time.
“Evie—” I start, reaching out for her jaw, but she pushes my hand away and presses at me to get off her. I still don’t move, pinning her under me with my chest over hers and my
legs shifting to straddle her thighs.
“Are you suggesting roommates or separate houses? Are you asking me to give up my life in Savannah to date you?” Bitterness rings in her voice, and I stare down at her. “I can’t live in this house again.”
“You’ve spent two nights here,” I remind her.
“It’s too much.” She’s already shared her opinion about Michael’s room being a shrine to him.
“Don’t be like this.” My voice cracks.
“You don’t be like this,” she counters. “I’ve given up six years waiting on you. I’m finally here, and you still don’t want me one-hundred percent.” She shoves at me, and I give in, rolling off her. She quickly sits up, covered in my tee, and swings her legs over the edge of the mattress, giving me her back.
“I do want you.” I reach out for her, rubbing along her spine, but she stiffens. I press upward to lean behind her, but she stands and spins to face me.
“We can date. Talk. We can start over,” I say, hating how weak I sound by asking her for this.
“You signed the papers,” she reminds me as if it’s my admission to something.
“Didn’t you?”
“I can’t keep waiting on you, James.”
“Because there are better men out there,” I snap, noting she hasn’t answered my question, and the glare she gives me is like a stab to my heart.
“What happened to not mentioning others?” Her voice drops, and her head lowers, her hair tumbling around her face. “Some things we aren’t ever going to get over, James, and we needed to work through them together, not separately. We needed to support one another. We’ve already been separated. You pushed me away because you needed space and time to heal, but I needed you during that time. I needed you to pull me closer and keep me grounded like the rock you promised to be. Over time, I realized that was a lot of pressure on you, and I needed to figure out me for me. When we should have leaned on each other, we didn’t. What does that say about us?”
