Page 29 of Dying to Meet You

“Can I touch you? You don’t have to touch me.” She’s been in the same place with me before. I thought we’d mastered this obstacle.

I haven’t resisted a touch, hug, or kiss from anyone in our family for years. I still wear gloves doing my work, but that’s more for covering my tracks. “No. Go to sleep.”

Perplexed, her face scrunches up. “Are you punishing me for the marks? I know you don’t like them, but we’ve talked about this before. We have children together…biological children. You and I. No one says a word about that. The marks are no big deal.”

“It isn’t about Thing One’s and Thing Two’s savagery. It’s not. Go to sleep.” I flip back over before I let her do what she wants, causing me enough discomfort it’ll hurt her further.

She wouldn’t be Eden if she listened. I feel her breath on my neck. Bristling, I hold myself still. “We’re not scared kids anymore. We’re wiser now…we’re married now. I want you to tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting like this.”

“You aren’t going to sleep, are you?”

She firmly replies, “Not a chance. Now talk.”

Groaning, I lay on my back, focused on the ceiling. “It’s not sexy to talk about how I’m imagining what a breeding ground for bacteria a mouth is. Or thinking about our…juices mingling.” The impulse to gag is stuffed back down.

“Ahhh.” She moves back a few inches. “Did something happen to bring those feelings back? Because last week you were lapping my ‘juices’ up like it was the nectar of the gods,” she jokes lightly.

“Did you have to remind me of that right now?”

Teasingly, she pulls the covers down until my groin area can be seen under my sweatpants. “Did you know that you’re so hung, this is what most men look like hard, but you’re not even a little bit, are you?”

“Go. To. Sleep.” I pull the covers back up. It’s bad enough that she’s next to me completely bare, but I’m so messed up in the head I can’t do anything about it. Now she needs to point out I’m not getting turned on.

I lay next to my wife, listening to her breathing until it evens out and slows, ensuring she is asleep before I relax. But sleep eludes me because my brain wants to revisit Camp Carroll and hyperfocus on loose ends. I’m so distracted by my thoughts I don’t realize I’ve moved in bed until I hip check Eden.

She sighs before throwing her arm across my waist in her sleep. I suck in a breath freezing. Her head moves to rest against my arm. It’s Eden…it’s Eden, we’ve fallen asleep countless times with me inside of her after coming. It’s Eden.

Squirming she throws a leg over my thigh. I battle the impulse to shove her away in favor of another shower. I am in control. It’s Eden.

An image of Eden lying lifeless in front of me comes to mind. It’s realistic enough that I sit up suddenly. Her eyes fly open. “Shit…I’m sorry, Hutton.”

It takes seconds before I realize my hand is on her waist. Dropping it, I take a deep breath. “I’m going to take another shower.”

Leaning my head against the cool marble tiles in the shower, I close my eyes to another unbidden image of her lying in that summer rental years ago. No…it’s not her. It’s the one person I never wanted to think about again for as long as I lived. The door opens, but I keep my back to the shower door. “Hutton, can I come in?”

I reason that covered in soap is better if we’re going to be close right now. “If you have to,” I respond gruffly.

She lathers her body up with my cedarwood bodywash, her hair held up with one hand. I take a washcloth off a bar, offering to hold her blonde locks up while using it as a buffer.

“May I?” She squirts more soap into her hand before pointing at me. I relent, giving her the washcloth to use. The first caress across my chest makes my dick twitch to life, growing heavier as I harden. My balls draw up, needing release, while she pays attention to my ass with loving hands rubbing and squeezing.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” My voice is ragged as I lean against the wall to keep my footing.

By the time she’s dropped the washcloth to fist my erection, I’m not obsessing over germs. She strokes until streams of cum are on her chest. She wipes her hand through it, mixing it with the soap suds.

“Feeling better?” Her cheeky little smile is enchanting. Strangely enough, I do feel more like myself. More in control.

Pulling her in, I say, “I don’t know how you did that, but I’m ready for round two…”

Chapter Sixteen

Spray paint and a purpose

Keir

Mattisonhisway back home even though he was halfway to his office. Bristow and Harrison felt the need to call him about our neighbor Todd’s latest move and our lovely wife’s countermove. “You didn’t need to bother him about this.” He was crabby when he left, and this won’t help.

Harrison walks our way, a grim look on his face as he gets off his cellphone. “Did you hear the news yet?”

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