Page 37 of Liar's Heart
We have plans to spend the day sifting through everything that’s come to light before deciding on our next steps. Finally, it feels like I’m getting closer to ending Alec, and I’m eager to feel his blood turn cold and sticky on my hands. But rightnow, I just want to soak in the moment and watch my husband sleep.
He’s so handsome. I really want to slide under his arm and nuzzle into the warm skin of his chest, but I’d probably wake him up, and I don’t want to disturb him yet. Not that it bothered him in the middle of the night. I don’t know which one of us initiated it, but at one point, I woke to tangled limbs and sweet, sleepy kisses. It wasn't long before our movements turned purposeful, and Ender was kissing that tender spot behind my ear that sent shivers skittering across my skin as he took me from behind, saying he needed me, needed to be inside of me, and to know I was marked and messy and claimed by him once more. And then he literally fucked us both back to sleep, sated and soothed by each other’s bodies.
Watching his sleeping form, I decide I want a picture of him like this. It'll be the first one I've ever taken of him. Now that I've decided to spare him, it feels criminal not to collect these little memories.
My blood prickles in my veins. I hadn't actually voiced that decision yet, even to myself, and the realization temporarily stuns me. I'm not going to kill my husband. Our marriage no longer has an end date hanging over it. It feels like I'm finally taking a full breath of air when I’ve only been allowed shallow sips for far too long. I don't have to be at war with myself over my feelings for the man sleeping beside me anymore. I can let myself have him.
He can have me.
Grabbing my phone off my nightstand, I unlock it and carefully shift around to get a good angle without disturbing him. Lining up my shot, I snap a few pictures. I swipe over to the gallery to see how they turned out, saving the best ones and deleting the rest, when a deep, rough voice asks, “Get a good one?”
Startled, I look up from my phone. Ender's eyes are still closed, but he's smirking now, clearly having caught me inthe act. I smack the phone to my chest, instinctively shielding the screen from view. “How long have you been awake?”
He stretches his long legs, then rolls onto his side as he unfolds his arms and yawns. “Long enough to know you take pictures of me in my sleep.”
“I do not! I mean, I haven't before. That was the first time. You just…”
He puts an end to my floundering with a warm palm on my knee, patting it before grabbing his phone from his nightstand. One hand works on the screen while the other absently rubs the sleep from his eyes before he holds his phone out to me. The screen shows a picture of me asleep in our bed. He swipes with his thumb, showing me a different picture of me sleeping. And another, and another. “How long have you…” I start to ask.
“Pretty much as long as we've lived together,” he says. “I couldn't help myself. You're beautiful.”
And now I'm blushing. “Guess I won't feel like a creep for taking these, then.”
“Don't. Take as many pictures of me as you want.” He leans over and kisses me. “How're you feeling?”
“My eyes still hurt,” I say. “And I need to drink about a gallon of water to offset the dehydration. And also probably that much coffee. We have so much shit we have to sift through today, and I need to call Len?—”
Ender halts my spiraling thoughts with a hand on my arm. “Hey. We’ll get to it. But it’ll keep until after breakfast. Are you hungry? Do you want to go back to sleep or get up? I can have breakfast brought here, and we can eat in bed.”
My shoulders drop from where they were inching up toward my ears. “That sounds great, actually. Breakfast in bed. Extra water and coffee and carbs, please. So many carbs.”
Shooting off a text, he pronounces it done and sweeps me into his arms again. Tucked tightly against his chest, I breathehim in, getting a hit of that smoky citrus scent that I love so much. His fingers coast up and down my spine before settling into my hair. We share comfortable silence for several minutes before he breaks it. “Can I take you on a date?”
He doesn’t move, but I slide my head back enough to look up at his face and am greeted with careful optimism. “You want to take me on a date?”
“I honestly can’t think of any other reason why I would ask.”
I scrunch my face. “Why would you do that?”
His brows rise. “Because I want to. Come on, pick a night when we’re at your house, and let me plan a date. Or we can do it a different night. I’m not picky. Something fun just for the two of us. Let me romance my wife.”
Well. When he puts it that way… “What are we going to do on said date?”
Teeth begin to peek out from behind his grin. “You’ll see.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Nope. Let me surprise you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is it murder?”
His eyebrow lifts, mimicking my expression. “Do you want it to be murder?”
Shrugging, I mumble, “I don’tnotwant it to be murder.” Then more clearly, I say, “Murder makes me horny.”
Ender doesn’t hesitate. “Maybe we do murder.” He gives his head a little shake, like he’s batting away a distracting thought. “I was thinking something a little less messy, unless you have some business that needs to be handled while we’re there?”
“Not currently, no.” I sigh. “But I have a feeling we’re going to be taking a lot of trash out when we get back, so I suppose we could just go to the movies or something instead.”
