Page 11 of Indulgence
I wasn’t going to figure this out, so I dragged my ass from the shower.
When I exited the bathroom, Matteo was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, a steaming coffee mug in his hand. There was another mug on the dresser for me.
“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, going for casual as I walked into our closet to grab something to wear.
“I want to talk about why you’ve been faking your orgasms for the last few months.”
His voice was calm and even, as if he’d practiced saying those words without any inflection, without giving me any indication as to how this conversation would go.
He knew. How could he know? There was no way.
My instinct was to deny. Deny. Deny. Deny.
There was no way he could prove that was true.
I grabbed a sundress off a hanger and went back into the bedroom.
“Matteo, I don’t—”
He stood from the bed, cutting off my words. “If you finish that sentence and lie to me, I will be beyond angry. That will devastate me. Right now, I look at this as something you haven’t figured out how to tell me. If you lie, then it becomes something else entirely. Don’t do that. Not to me. Not to us.”
The flush of embarrassment crept up from my toes. It burned as it radiated like acid through every part of my body.
He always smiled at me after sex, kissing me and telling me loved me. I was certain he couldn’t tell the difference.
But . . . he clearly knew, so what was I supposed to tell him? That our sex wasn’t doing it for me? That I’d been craving something more adventurous? Something more like last night and this morning? He seemed to have already figured that out.
“I . . .”
I didn’t know what to say. My voice wasn’t there. I couldn’t tell him what I needed.
But he was the one who orchestrated this whole thing, Nat.
He seemed to be fine with it, but would my admitting to something he only assumed change how casual he seemed to be about it?
I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I didn’t want him to feel inadequate because it was the opposite. He was everything. What if this changed things? What if he felt insulted? What if he never looked at me the same again? There was a reason I hadn’t told him.
He ate up the space that separated us, deposited his coffee on the dresser, and grasped my face between his hands. His thumbs swiped under my eyes, and wetness smeared across my skin.
“Don’t cry.” His voice was soft and loving, which only made it worse. Sobs heaved from my chest as guilt took up residence in every molecule of my soul. I’d been deceiving my husband, the love of my life, the most amazing man in the whole world, andhewas comfortingme.
God, that ate me alive from inside out. Feasting hard and fast on my conscience as if it were a flesh-eating bacterium.
I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. There was no way. I had to tell him, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see his brightness dim, not even a bit, and I certainly didn’t want to be the reason for it.
Chapter Six
Matteo
Shit!Tears were not whatI intended for when I started this. I wanted to make her feel comfortable. Show her that I could do this, be this person she wanted or needed. The plan was supposed to draw her out of her shell, not push her deeper into it. I hadn’t been kidding about what I said, I didn’t consider this a lie at the moment, but I could sense she was about to deny what I knew was true. That wasn’t something I could settle for, no matter how much I loved my wife. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt with her. Maybe I was too aggressive.
“I . . .”
Indecision warred on her features. Her arms wrapped around her body protectively as if she were shielding herself from me of all people. She never needed to hide herself from me, which was the whole point of this entire exercise, but with the way her skin flushed pink all the way to her ears, it was clear she didn’t feel the same way.
The tear sliding down her cheek might as well have been an arrow shot through my heart. I hated seeing Natalie upset, and it was a thousand times worse when I was part of the reason for her tears.
“Don’t cry.” I tried to sooth her frayed edges. I wasn’t sure what Natalie was going through, but I felt the need to tread carefully moving forward. My strong, resilient wife reminded me of the runt of a litter of kittens left behind to sink or swim on her own, only she wasn’t alone. She just needed to let me in so I could help her swim.
