Page 66 of Iron Crown

Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk. Maybe we were shit as husband and wife, because we never had time to build any kind of foundation for ourselves.

But in our bed, we still worked.

If carnal passion was how I could draw him back to me, then I would do whatever I had to.

I’d be a little slut, if that kept him by my side. If it kept his mind clear, present, and out of the darkness that lived behind his eyes.

“Why aren’t you making love to me?” It was a rotten tactic. But I was a desperate woman.

I held his face in my hands, staring into his eyes. I did not see any madness there. I just saw a sad man, his face sullen and closed off, masked in a way he only used to do for others. Never for me.

“Make love to me.” This time it was a command.

Sex was where we made sense. It was where his devotion lived.

If he did not make love to me with the same beautiful dedication that he always did, then I would know. I would understand that there was something between us that was truly broken.

If he did notloveme with the same rigor as before, then I would know that his love had diminished somewhere. Or maybe it had died.

He tilted my chin up with the crook of his index finger until I stared into his curious gaze.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, quietly.

“Have I ever denied you?”

“No,” he admitted, with a nod. “But that’s not the same thing.”

I had never initiated anything between us. I had always been the passive partner. But how could I initiate something when he had always taken every opportunity possible? He was always the first to love, and the first to demand love in return?

Because I’m too chicken shit to ever admit that Ineedhim.

I needed to get over that, now.

“I’ve never had to make a move.” I squirmed on the bed, pushing myself so we were face to face, nose to nose. “You always did it for me.”

I kissed his throat, as my hand trailed down his body to the warm, thick length of him that pressed against my lower belly. I lightly grazed him with my fingers, feeling it twitch with my attention.

“Should I show you what you mean to me?” It was another challenge.

I wrapped my hand around his cock, strangling it in my palm.

I pressed myself up until our lips touched. Still, he did not kiss me. He simply parted his lips, just a little, until my tongue entered his mouth. His tongue met mine, massaging together, as I groaned at his response.

Anyresponse that wasn’t a rejection, I would jump on, just for the reassurance of it. I pumped his cock a few times, and he moaned. But still, he did not pounce on me. He did not grab me, demand things of me. He did not pin me to the bed, and have his way with me.

Had everything these past few days been too much? Was Paradigm, my secrets… Giorgio Morelli? Was it all finally too much?

Had I been too much? Had I stopped being the person he’d fallen for? That niggling insecurity existed in the back of my mind. It brought tears to my eyes… just the thought of not having his complete and total attention cracked something inside me.

“What’s wrong, sweet Muse?” he asked, gently. But still, he did not pull me in. He was distant…

Just a small distance, sure. We were still physically connected. But he felt so far from me. Like an ocean separated us.

I knew that I loved my husband. I knew that I was soul-crushingly infatuated with Eoghan Cillian Green. How I had the strength to leave three years ago, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t do it now.

If anything ever happened to him, I wouldn’t survive.

“I’m fine.” I felt the moisture on my cheek as I lost the battle to stay strong.

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