Two Months Later
Tyler
My phone vibrates from beside me as I type the final word on my article titled “A New Season Start for the Cowboys.” I’m a senior sports journalist for the Dallas News, SportsDay.
Sports has been in my blood since the moment I held my first football at the age of four, and once upon a time, I dreamed of being an NFL star for the Cowboys. But, of course, I injured my knee the first year in college, so instead, I write about them. I don’t hear a crowd of 92,000 people screaming my name, but my articles receive over a million views a day, so I can’t really complain.
I press Save on my Word document before picking up my phone and seeing a text from my buddy Matt.
Matt is an old friend from high school, and thanks to him and his wife, Alex, I met Mia four years ago. Alex and Mia had known each other from their college days where they worked together at Hooters. I was pretty stoked to find out Mia was a Hooters girl. And, no, I didn’t go there because of the chicks, just the hot wings. Okay, maybe a little for the chicks.
Matt: Dude, just checking that you’re still coming tonight?
He’s talking about the surprise birthday party he’s throwing for Alex’s thirtieth. And, hell yes, I’m going. I’ve been planning for tonight for two months.
Me: Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Does Mia still think I can’t make it?
While I wait for a response, I go over my article before sending it off to be proofed by one of our team editors.
His next text comes through.
Matt: Yes, she thinks you’re going on a date with some smoking-hot chick.
My eyes bug out of my sockets. Please tell me he’s fucking kidding me. Today is the first day I will be seeing my wife in two months, and I’ll have zero chance of winning her over if she thinks I’m with someone else. Fuck my life.
Me: You’d better be fucking joking, man.
Matt: Yes, I’m joking. Be here at 7:15.
Me: Yes, sir.
I took Jo’s advice, and I’ve been giving Mia the space I know she needs. My life during the past two months has been pure hell without her, and I miss her like fuck. I feel like I’ve lost a limb, a vital part of me, but tonight, this will all change. I don’t give a shit if she still needs distance. My patience is shot, and she’s run out of time.
As of tonight, I will fight.
I’ll fight for what’s rightfully mine.
Jo’s been the perfect wingman—or shall I say, wingwoman. She’s been helping me keep tabs on Mia. Not in a creepy-stalker kind of way, but just feeding me bits of information here and there, mostly just to keep me from losing my goddamn mind.
Until just a few weeks ago, Mia was staying with her parents, but much to my dismay, she moved into an apartment. I hate how final that sounds. Living with her parents was only temporary, but living in her own place, that is a whole different ball game. I won’t let that roadblock get in the way of winning my wife back.
Jo mentioned that Mia had been seeing a therapist to help her through the depression. Part of me is happy that she is seeking help, but the other part of me is hurt that I can’t be there to support her. She is suffering alone, but I brought it all on myself.
When she needed me the most, I wasn’t there for her, and somewhere during those three weeks following the miscarriage, I checked out of the marriage. I was there in body but not in mind. I don’t even know how we got to that place in our lives. One minute, we were still in the honeymoon stage of our marriage, happy and content, and then the next, a dark cloud hovered over us like a soul-sucking Dementor, taking us away from our blissful little bubble. It wasn’t until she walked away from me that I realized I’d fucked up. I wasn’t the husband she’d married, all because I didn’t know how to handle my emotions.
I work through the rest of the day, and as soon as the clock strikes six, I’m out the door and heading home to get changed for the party. The plan is to do a quick jump in the shower, change, and leave, but the anticipation and nerves of seeing Mia for the first time in what feels like forever have all my emotions in knots, and I turn into a goddamn pussy, changing my outfit four times before changing my mind for a fifth time, settling on a pair of dark-washed jeans, a navy button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and boots. I then spend longer than necessary on my hair, ensuring every single strand is styled to perfection.
By the time I arrive at Matt’s house, I’m forty-five minutes late, so late that I missed the fucking important part of the party—the surprise reveal.
“Shit, man, I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say as Matt opens the door to let me in. I feel terrible for being late. “I turned into a chick and couldn’t figure out what the fuck to wear.”
I walk inside, and he grins.
“I swear, I was this close,” I say with a small measure of my thumb and forefinger, “to growing a vagina.”
He pats me on the back with a hearty chuckle. “You sound like you need a beer.”
I begin to follow him through to the kitchen, and immediately, my eyes begin to seek out Mia, but instead of seeing Mia, I come face-to-face with the birthday girl.
“Tyler!” Alex excitedly shouts, pulling me into a hug. She pulls away, smiling up at me.
“Hey, Alex,” I greet, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Happy birthday. You look stunning, as always.”
This isn’t a lie. She’s off-the-charts beautiful with her exotic good looks from her Hawaiian and Filipino heritage, but she doesn’t hold a torch to Mia, who is the doppelgänger of Kate Beckinsale, the only difference being their eye color.
“You always know the right things to say to me.”
I lift the small gift bag I have in my hand and pass it to her. “I’m sorry I was late for the surprise reveal, but this gift should help butter you up. I hope you like it,” I say before adding, “If you don’t, then you can blame your husband since he was the one who set up the gift registry for your birthday.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “I’m sure I will love it. Thank you.”
My eyes automatically begin to drift around the kitchen in search for Mia, but I’m left disappointed when I can’t see her.
“If you’re looking for Mia, she’s outside,” Alex says with a knowing smile.
“How did you know who I was searching for?” I ask, matching her smile.
“I can see a pussy-whipped man from a mile away. It might be my party, but she’s the real reason you’re here. Go get your wife.”
I press another kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.” I begin to walk but quickly turn back around. “How does she look?”
“Well, put it this way; I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,” she says with a wink.
I give out a deep laugh. I head toward the backyard but not before grabbing an IPA from the fridge and throwing back half of the bottle before I’ve even reached the patio door.
I step through the patio door, and once I’ve taken in the garden that’s fit for the Queen at Buckingham Palace—thanks to Alex being a landscape gardener—it doesn’t take me long to spot Mia.
Holy shit.
My heart comes screeching to a stop as her beauty hits me like a sledgehammer. The pictures that I have hung up in our house, including our wedding pictures, are nothing compared to seeing her in the flesh. She’s fucking stunning. Every inch of her is pure and perfect.
I lick my lips as I take her in from afar. She’s dressed in a red minidress that accentuates the swell of her tits and her curves, falling mid thigh with a flare. Even though she’s only five foot four, her legs look like they go on for miles with the black stiletto-heeled sandals that show off her perfect feet, her toes painted in her signature devil red. Her wavy brunette hair is tied up in a high ponytail, giving a clear view of her neck. Suddenly, a flashback comes to me—her on all fours with me fucking her from behind, her hair fisted in my hand as I pulled her head back, crashing my lips onto hers.
Shit. I can’t be getting a hard-on now.
Months without being buried inside my wife is beginning to take its toll on me.
I don’t know how long I stand there and stare at my wife as she speaks to one of Alex’s girlfriends, but slowly, her head turns in my direction. I see the shock on her face the instant her eyes lock on mine, obviously caught by surprise from my showing up. I wish I could say her expression was one of happiness, but instead, it’s one of irritation. Maybe a little bit of anger, too.
I raise the bottle of beer to my lips, taking a long sip, trying to hide my amusement at her narrowed eyes. If she thinks a scowl will deter me, she obviously doesn’t know me very well. I allow our eyes to lock for a few more seconds before I push my feet forward, heading toward her. I watch as she nervously flits her eyes to her friend when she sees my approach. She says a few words to Alex’s friends, and her friend turns to look at me with intrigue in her eyes. I step up to them, unable to take my eyes from Mia.
“Hi,” I greet, smiling.
Instantly, Mia’s signature smell hits my nostrils, and my chest constricts as the scent wraps around me like a warm blanket, her perfume filled with four years of memories, our history. It’s sweet, intoxicating, and all Mia.
Mia doesn’t say anything, simply takes a huge gulp of her wine. An awkward silence surrounds us, and I turn to the girl standing with Mia.
“Would you mind giving my wife and me a moment alone?”
She glides her eyes toward Mia, looking concerned, but when Mia gives a gentle nod and a forced smile, she takes a few steps back, saying, “Sure thing.”
Seconds later, we’re alone, and while Mia is trying to avoid my eyes, I’m unable to take my eyes off her.
“How are you?” I ask, inching forward, just wanting to be near her.
She has this gravitational force about her, drawing me to her like a magnet.
She finally looks at me. “I’m good.”
“Good,” I respond, smiling.
“How are you?” she asks after a few beats.
“I’ve been okay. A lot better now, seeing you.” I take a step closer, my eyes never straying from her face.
I hear her breath hitch at my sudden proximity, and I take that as a good sign.
“You look beautiful.”
Her eyes grow wide at my words, but she shakes her head, taking a step back.
“Tyler, don’t,” she says with an exasperated sigh, setting her wine down on the table beside us.
“Don’t what?” I ask, confused. “I was simply giving my wife a compliment.”
“I’m not your…” She briefly pauses, and when she says, “I’m not your wife,” I almost laugh a pitiful laugh. She’s quick to correct herself. “We’re no longer together.”
“You still have your wedding ring on,” I point out, lifting her left hand with my own, loving how the very touch creates an electric shock.
This is a good sign.
She flinches at the very touch, obviously feeling what I felt, and quickly drops her hand—so quickly that it’s almost like she was scalded. Immediately, she covers her hand with her right and purposely sidesteps my observation by changing the subject.
“I thought you weren’t able to come tonight,” she says with a snotty tone.
She crosses her arms over her chest, and I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to her tits at the way they lift a little higher.
My wife has gorgeous tits.
“Would you have come if you had known I would be here?” I question, looking back up at her.
She throws me another irritated glare. “Of course I would have, but a heads-up would have been nice. It’s been two months, Tyler.”
“I guess I like the element of surprise.” I grin.
She laughs, but it sounds too sadistic to be real. “If that were true, then why were you late to a surprise party?”
“Do you think I just rolled out of bed, looking this hot?” I smirk.
Her eyes lower to my body, taking me in, and with the way her pupils dilate, it tells me she likes what she sees.
Another good sign.
It probably helps that I’ve been working out nonstop, and my muscles have considerably bulked up since the last time she saw me.
“Looking this good takes time.” I see her lips twitch with obvious amusement before she rolls her eyes. “Plus, just as I was about to leave, Harley chose to projectile vomit everywhere.”
Her eyes widen and then turn down with sadness. “Is he okay?” she asks, her motherly instincts kicking into place.
“Yeah, he’s fine. You know how he likes to eat the wildlife.” I roll my eyes, chuckling.
“I miss him.” She gives a sad smile, fondness in her eyes.
“He misses you, too.” I step toward her, so close that I can feel the warmth of her breath against my lips. “He’s not the only one.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and a whisper of a breath leaves her lips. I allow my thumb to caress down her arm. At the very touch, her body stills, and her eyes blink open.
“Tyler, you can’t say things like that to me.”
“Why not? You’re my wife,” I say with a soft growl, packing a punch with the word wife.
She shakes her head, snatching her arm from my touch, and takes a step back. For every step back she makes, I just make another step forward.
“You can’t just show up here after two months of nothing from you and expect me to fall into your arms. It doesn’t work like that.”
I exhale a breath, trying to figure out my next step, when she speaks, “Where was that fight you promised me?” She’s referring to the drunken message I left her the night she left me.
I shift closer again until we’re chest-to-chest. She tries to take another step back, but she stumbles on her heels as her back hits a tree, having nowhere to go. I place my arm beside her head, caging her in, and I see the heavy rise and fall of her chest with the increased deepening of her breath. I lean in until my mouth lingers over her ear. My cock stirs as she shivers against me, and I love that, even though two months have passed, she’s just as affected by me as she was the first day we met.
“Baby, I haven’t even started, but consider this your warning. I’m coming for you, and I’ll get dirty if I have to.”
I brush my lips against her cheek before pulling away. I smile as I walk backward, keeping my stare locked on her, loving the dazed expression on her face, the flush glowing across her fair skin. I did that to her, lowered her senses and vulnerability, and it’s only a single step in many to come, but I walk away from her, inwardly high-fiving myself for leaving her speechless as I down the rest of my beer.
I find my way to the kitchen to grab myself another beer before joining Matt and a few of the guys around the pool, smiling to myself when I feel a heated stare coming from the opposite side of the backyard. As I take a seat, my eyes follow to where Mia is standing, but when I catch her gaze, she quickly averts her eyes with a scowl, and I’m left smiling around my bottle as I take a drink.
This continues for the rest of the night—her looking away with a bitter scowl every time I catch her eyes drifting over to me every couple of minutes. I’m no better, as I find myself constantly seeking her out, searching for her, my eyes unable to resist the pull she creates simply by being feet away. But, when she catches me staring, I don’t look away. I keep eye contact with her for as long as possible, as long as she will let me. Her beauty is too striking to resist the opportunity to indulge on her, my eyes unable to break the connection, especially since I haven’t had the luxury to do so in what feels like forever.
As the night stretches on, I find it impossible to concentrate, frustrated by having her so near but unable to feel her, kiss her. The saying, Look but never touch, comes to mind. I feel my adolescent frustrations come to the surface, not being able to touch the very thing I want, the thing I crave, and having that one thing be off-limits makes me want it all the more. And having something that used to belong to me—who still belongs to me—right in front of me but just out of range by a millimeter is like winning the lottery but losing the winning ticket.
The music and the drinks continue to flow, but when Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger” comes blaring through the speakers, my eyes automatically fall to Mia, and I can’t hide my smile, knowing how much she loves them.
I took her to see them in concert on our third date after she mentioned that they were one of her favorite bands on our first date. Since she’d stolen my heart from the instant I met her, I had known I was going to have to bring out the big guns in order to impress her, and the tickets did exactly that. And the thank-you I received was one I will always have etched in my mind, one involving her mouth on a certain part of my anatomy.
I watch as she drags Alex and a few other women from where they’re all huddled over to the makeshift dance floor. I shift forward in my seat, my elbows resting on my thighs, my chin posed on top of my fists, and I watch Mia with rapt attention, my focus solely on her and the way her body moves effortlessly to the music.
She sexily rocks her hips from side to side, her ponytail swaying with her seductive movements, her head thrown back without a care in the world. I can’t stop the growl from my throat as I take her in.
I’m entranced with every part of her, including the smile that has the ability to break my heart and put it back together, all in one. I love that smile. It’s the smile I fell in love with, the smile I’m falling further in love with. I’m unsure of the journey she’s taken to get to this point, but the simple fact that she’s happy makes the two months of separation worth it. I wish I were the one putting the smile on her face, but I’ll let Adam Levine take the credit. For now.
I hear Matt’s snigger from beside me, but I continue looking forward, mesmerized by my wife as she continues to circle and wiggle her hips.
“You’re drooling, man. You’d think she was your wife or something.”
I smirk. “Whoever her husband is, he’s one lucky son of a bitch.” I give him a side-glance, smiling around my bottle as I take a sip.
My eyes continue to roam over her, both my heart and cock pulsating at the mere sight of her.
God, she’s fucking incredible. And so fucking mine.
She might not agree with that right now, but separation or not, she’s mine. As my eyes stay locked on her, her beautiful body moving to the music, it’s taking everything within me to restrain myself from grabbing her and hauling her into the bathroom to fuck her senseless. It’s been way too long since I’ve been balls deep in her, and I’m craving her pussy in a way a drug addict craves cocaine.
“She’s not too thrilled about you being here tonight, man,” Matt says.
I nod. “Yep, you’re right about that, but I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t just mean tonight, and Matt knows that.
“I know you guys have had it rough, but you’ll get through it. I just know it.”
I give him a friendly punch to the knee with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”
Shortly after, I decide to call it a night, not sure how much longer I can keep my inner caveman from dragging her away from this party and having his wicked way with her. The longer I’m here, the harder it is to control myself.
I turn to Matt, who’s in deep conversation with one of his buddies. “Hey, man, I’m gonna head on out.”
Matt turns to face me with a frown before looking down at the watch on his wrist. “It’s still early.”
“I know. I’m a total party pooper, but I’m struggling,” I say with a point of the head in Mia’s direction.
A look of understanding shoots through his eyes, and he gives a simple nod. “All right, man.” He stands up, and he pulls me into a brotherly hug, slapping me on the back. “Thanks for coming. I know Alex loved seeing you. We’ll have to get together soon for a boys’ night.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see if I can get us tickets for the first Cowboys game this month.”
His eyes light up, and for a minute, I think he’s about to smack one on me with the goofy look of happiness on his face.
“I knew we were friends for a reason.”
“And here I thought it was for my charming good looks, not my work perks.”
“Get out of here, asshole.” He wears a smirk on his face, taking a sip from his beer.
“I’m going,” I say, walking backward, flipping him the bird.
I turn and head over to Alex on the dance floor to say good-bye. When she finds my eyes wandering the space around me, she tells me that Mia went inside to grab a drink. However, when I go in search of her, I come up empty. Reluctantly, I order an Uber before heading to the bathroom since the four beers I consumed are making me feel as if I could piss a river.
Thankfully, there isn’t a line when I get to the bathroom, so I open the door. As I swing the door open, I startle when I realize a chick is in here, doing her business.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” is my automatic response.
After taking a quick second glance, I see that it’s Mia.
So, this is where she disappeared to.
Her face is one of alarm as she scrambles to cover herself, but I don’t miss the redness around her eyes and the tear streaks along her rosy cheeks. Ignoring the scowl I see aimed my way, I step inside and close the door behind me, locking it.
“Jesus, Tyler,” she grumbles with annoyance as she quickly wipes herself before standing, pulling her panties up and allowing the dress to fall back into place, smoothing it down with her hands. “You ever heard of knocking?”
You ever heard of locking the door? I don’t say this. I simply ignore her quip and focus on her raw red eyes that make my heart clench.
“Have you been crying?” I ask attentively, taking a step toward her.
She sighs irritably as she flushes the toilet and closes the seat before walking over to the sink where she begins the process of washing her hands. “No, I’m fine,” she says with a tone that sounds anything but fine.
“Mia?” I step over to her until I’m standing behind her, staring at her reflection in the mirror where she purposely tries to avoid my eyes.
She sniffs, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, a sign that tells me she’s upset but trying to hold the emotion back.
“I know when my wife’s been crying,” I state confidently, taking in her sad eyes. When seconds pass and only silence greets my ears, I gently whisper, “Baby, what is it?”
She visibly flinches at my words, and as she turns the faucet off, she looks up to the ceiling, breathing heavily. Her eyes flutter closed, her wet hands fiercely gripping hold of the sink.
“You.” There’s a hard edge to her voice, one that chips away at my heart.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” she grits out, fuming.
Instead of stepping away from her obvious ire, I instinctively step closer.
She gives out a shuddery breath before laying into me good, glaring at me through the mirror. “I’ve waited two months for you to put your money where your mouth is, and as the days passed without a single word from you, I started to think that maybe your drunken vow to fight for me was just bullshit. When that realization sank in, I tried anything not to think of you and just focus on me. And you want to know something? It was working. I was pushing through the depression, finally feeling like me again, finally feeling like, maybe, I could get through the next days without having the constant reminder of what I’d lost. That was when I realized I didn’t need you. That my life didn’t revolve around you, that I could survive without you. I felt like I was slowly moving on with my life.
“Then, tonight, you unexpectedly turned up, and everything I’d felt went straight out of the goddamn window the instant I set eyes on your stupid, beautiful, perfect face.
“Two months, Tyler. Where the fuck have you been?”
She’s breathing heavily, and her eyes are filled with angry tears, but she doesn’t give me a chance to explain. “I want to hate you, slap you, hit you, anything that involves hurting you, but instead, all I want to do is…” She pauses, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip, her eyes filled with obvious turmoil before she lets them fall shut.
I move stealthily closer until my chest is pressed up against her back, both hands on her hips, unable to resist touching her in some way. Just feeling her between my fingertips is everything. She remains silent, her facial expression tormented.
“What do you want to do?” I breathe in her ear.
I don’t miss the way she shivers against me. Her eyes flutter back open, and her stare meets mine in the reflection of the mirror. As well as seeing anger, I see passion. Pure, hot, unadulterated passion.
“I want to slam my lips onto yours. I want to lose myself in your touch. I want you so much.” The words come out on a husky whisper.
My fingers grasp her hips, my cock turning rock fucking hard within an instant.
“You can do both—hate me and kiss me,” I urge, pushing my hips into her ass. “Take your anger out on me, on my lips, on my cock…”
A moan escapes her lips, and my fingers drift lower until they meet her bare thigh just below her dress.
“You can be as rough as you want.” I forcibly dig my fingers against her thigh, showing exactly how rough with my touch alone. “I want your wrath, baby. Give it to me.”
Her head falls back against my shoulder, and she gives out a whimpering little groan, arching her back, pushing her ass against my cock. My fingers drift under her dress, toward her panties, and I have to bite back my own moan as I trace the edge of lace, feeling the heat radiating from her pussy.
She’s breathless, her eyes burning into mine with an inferno heat mixed with a little anger. “I want to fuck you to death,” she threatens.
I chuckle against her ear as I gently bite her earlobe.
“It’d be a perfect way to die—buried in your pussy.” I rock my hips against her ass, driving home how much I want her, while my forefinger slips inside her panties, sliding over the slickness of her soaked folds.
God, she’s perfection.
Fucking wet perfection.
“Tyler,” she whispers before another moan slips from her mouth as my finger meets her protruding clit.
I begin to circle her pretty little bud, and her hips jerk at the impact, her chest rising and falling.
“God, I’ve missed this pussy. I’m thinking you should maybe take your frustration out on my mouth, my tongue, my face.” I graze her lobe with my teeth before tracing it with my tongue, causing her to shiver at my very touch.
“God, yes,” she replies with a sexy rasp to her voice, her heated eyes drifting shut, while she bites down on her bottom lip.
Fuck, I wish I were biting down on that lip.
My finger slowly drifts from her clit and toward the entrance of her pussy. I inch in just a little bit, enough for her to feel the pressure of my finger but not enough to truly satisfy her.
“Maybe you can squeeze my finger, clamp your pussy around me, take your anger out on my hand,” I goad as I slowly push my finger inside her until I’m knuckle deep. I grunt when the walls of her pussy squeeze my finger.
Fuck yeah.
Pulling out of her, I slowly reenter her but this time with two fingers. “Own my fingers, show them who’s boss, destroy them with your pussy,” I say with a low whisper.
She clenches her pussy around my fingers for a second time. The door handle suddenly rattles, and Mia immediately stiffens.
“It’s okay; the door’s locked,” I try to reassure her while slowly thrusting my fingers inside her.
She clamps my fingers even harder before forcing herself away from me, my hand being wrenched from her heat.
“God, what am I doing?” she murmurs, mostly to herself. She shakes her head while turning to me, the passion from her eyes long gone. Only anger emanates from her now. “You don’t get to touch me after two months of nothing from you!” she yells, tears welling in her eyes. Tears that crack my heart in two. “Sex isn’t going to fix us, Tyler!”
Not that we actually got to the sex part, I think to myself.
“What did you just say?” she snaps.
Shit, did I say that out loud?
An apology finds its way to the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have time to speak it as Mia interrupts me, “You know what? I can’t cope with this right now. It’s all too much.”
She goes to walk past me, toward the door, but I grip her wrist and pull her into me, determined not to let her walk away from me.
Not again.
At my mere touch, her body trembles, and I’m not sure if that’s from the anger radiating from her or if she’s turned on. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
“Mia,” I whisper, the word straining my throat. “Tell me how to fix this, to fix us.”
She draws her bottom lip into her mouth, a mixture of sadness, heartbreak, and irritation crossing her facial features, before she glances up to the ceiling, her tear-filled eyes glistening under the lights.
After a few long seconds, she looks back down, shaking her head. “I don’t know if there is a way to fix us.”
“Bullshit,” I blurt out, startling her.
“Bullshit?” she questions, her cheeks turning red with even more anger.
“Yes, bullshit. We might be a little broken, but we’re not unfixable. Our marriage is on the rocks, I know that, but don’t talk like you’ve already signed the fucking divorce papers.” My heart is racing in my chest, throbbing against my rib cage, as the fire begins to burn in my veins, a mixture of anger and determination coming from my mouth in an almost growl.
I step toward her and simply gaze into her intense green-blue eyes that have gold flecks in the depths of them. My heart constricts at how beautiful she is. I’ve always known she’s too good for me, even before we got married, but the moment I put that ring on her finger, I made a vow to myself that I would never let her go, and I stand by the very same vow. The only way I’d ever let her go was if I was six feet under, and even then, I wouldn’t give her up without a fight.
Dead or alive, she’s mine.
Forever.
Unable to resist, I raise my hand to her face, gently caressing her flushed cheek, and she seems frozen to the spot, frozen by my touch.
“You’re my wife, I’m your husband, and we belong together.”
My fingers drift from her cheek toward her lips, and I slowly yet purposely drag my fingers over the plump of her lips, the same fingers that were inside her minutes earlier. I gently pull my hand away, and I watch intently as her tongue instinctively flicks out to her lips. I know she can taste herself, and I find it erotic as hell. My cock also finds it sexy, and he begins to stir to life again, but I focus on my wife in front of me and our marriage that has a huge question mark over it.
She’s right; sex can’t fix us.
“I’m willing to fight. I’m going to fight,” I say with resolution, a promise to her. “But the only question you need to ask yourself is, are you going to fight with me or against me?”
Regardless of her choice, I’m going to win her back.