Chapter 23

That night, when I slid my spine into my husband’s chest, a whimper fled his lips. With his rapid breathing sending puffs through my hair, Bobby’s heartbeat hammered my back. At his limp shaft mashing into my butt, I sighed and pressed tighter into him.

There was silence for a long while, but he wasn’t sleeping. Neither was I. Every nerve in my body still jangled. Far inside me, Pete’s magnificent ghost monster still stroked. After a low sniffle, a wet droplet slithered onto my shoulder. Another of Bobby’s muffled sobs sent a tremor through his body.

Without a word, I gripped his hands to place them on my tits. As his crying hitched, his fingers squeezed. At my moan, his frame relaxed with a shudder. Bobby didn’t need to speak. He’d thought he’d lost me.

It made sense. He couldn’t comprehend. Although the deep void inside me yearned for Pete, my heart was Bobby’s. That was the one damned key lesson Evan had taught me. Fuck whomever I wanted, or he wanted me to, but always remember who loved me. And Evan had loved me—in his own way. Fantasy-filled, pervy Bobby ... Well, he also loved me. In his own way.

In the morning, I rolled in his arms to stare into Bobby’s fluttering, dark-ringed eyes. As I gripped his head in both hands, a grin slid across my face. It wasn’t forced.

“You need to understand something. I love you, Bobby. You are my husband. Always.”

At my words, his eyes first softened, then glinted for a brief second before filling with tears.

After dropping my lips to his, we kissed until I slipped from bed to get ready for work. As I put on makeup, I caught sight of a car in Pete’s driveway. Heart thumping, I lowered my mascara. Not red. And a smaller, sportier make. With my chest tightening, I glanced at the basement windows. They were dark and closed. Hungry, my insides fluttered. Who was he riding today instead of me? Or Delores.

Perhaps cute little Lily from the restaurant? Somebody else? A tremor raced through me. Not only wasn’t I Pete’s sole partner, there was a competition. While he hadn’t said as much, he also hadn’t kept me. He had “her,” whoever she was. With a sigh, I dressed and headed downstairs.

As I gulped coffee and stared through the kitchen window at the wind-swept gray sky, my breath caught. After Pete had left, there’d been a hardening of Bobby’s eyes. A glint for only a split second. He could leave me. To Pete. When my husband walked into the kitchen, stretching and cracking his shoulders, I flashed him a nervous smile.

“Good morning, babe,” I said, while placing the mug in the sink.

After only a slow nod, Bobby walked past to grab coffee before turning and wandering into the living room. With a sigh and my pulse racing, I followed, settling next to him on the couch. Jaw set, his fist tight on the mug, he stared at the wall. Yes, it was possible he’d divorce me. He could if I let him.

“I just don’t...” he gulped. “I just don’t know, Lisa,” slid from his clenched teeth, followed by a heavy breath.

While sitting quietly, I sucked on my lips. My hands were a twisting ball in my lap. My heart, a clenching ache. When Bobby turned to me, his eyes were both watery and hard.

“What you did. How you looked. I mean ... I can’t even—”

“No. You can’t.” Even as my curt words echoed, an exhale hissed from me. That’d been too harsh. “But”—when I raised my fingers to his chin, he tensed before pressing into my palm. His eyes gleamed—”you can love me for who I am, Bobby.” After sweeping my nails along his jawline, I added. “I am your wife, Bobby. Not Pete’s. He’s got other women, right?”

After sliding a hand between his legs, I ran my fingertips along his rising flesh. Eyelashes fluttering, Bobby nodded.

“Well, I love you. Not Pete.” When I stroked harder, my husband’s lips parted to emit a soft groan. After leaning into his ear, I whispered, “And you loved watching us, didn’t you?”

All Bobby could do was nod and gulp for air as I dragged my fist along his hardening shaft. After tugging the mug free of his fingers and slapping it onto the coffee table, I shoved him backwards. As I lifted my skirt and pulled aside my panties, his wide eyes gazed up at me.

Work could wait. This was crucial. Fantasy—or our new reality—was one thing, but my husband was far more important.

“Now. Let me do this.” After gripping his base, I flashed a grin down at Bobby. “For you, my love.”

No sooner had I fallen silent than I lowered myself, taking him inside only a short distance. When he tried to thrust upwards, my hand slapped on his stomach, pinning him in place. After crying out in surprise, he grunted.

“Watch, Bobby! Look at me.”

After his eyes locked on mine, I nodded to where I held him in my tightness. Just far enough. The rapid pulse in his mushroom head was jangling the still sharpened nerve endings at my special spot.

“This is where you need to play, Bobby.”

Left unsaid when our gazes again met: Or I could also leave him.

Become another woman in Pete’s harem.

As much as I didn’t want that, my husband had to do a far better job. While his rod would never equal Pete’s and he’d never be able to manhandle me the same way, that was only part of the equation. Once more, I’d instruct him, but we both realized how much was in the balance. So, while I rode only his tip and upper shaft, Bobby watched. When my heaving chest arched upwards, the first waves building, his hands slid onto my waist. While holding my skirt up, his digits began tightening.

“No, Bobby! Not yet.”

At my command, his grip eased. Instead, he only guided me as I rose and fell above him. That dear, sweet man had such beautiful green eyes. Those were the bottomless emerald pools I’d fallen in love with so many years ago. As the images of our life together flooded me, my breath hitched, and nails sank into his chest.