Page 53 of Crave

I swallowed. Patrick knew how to get under my skin, but more than that, this was what lived under his skin. Together, we visited our dark places. Every so often, he needed to release the beast.

“You’re a very talented artist,” I said airily. “I don’t see why you need to pursue a career in finance. Quit your day job already.”

He kissed my forehead. “You want to be the breadwinner, babe? Support us both?”

I curled up in his embrace. “It would be poetic justice, don’t you think?”

He grinned.

These days, we rarely talked about how we met — how our sexual relationship began. It wasn’t a skeleton in the closet; it just didn’t feel relevant anymore. We’d been a couple much longer than I’d been Patrick’s companion.

But at the beginning, we’d had an arrangement, and it involved him paying me for kinky sex.

Our black cat, Ember, slipped through the crack in the door and jumped on the bed, making herself comfortable at my side.

“Hey, girl.” I petted her as Patrick put the pad aside.

When he cuddled me close, I draped my leg over him and hugged his bulky thigh between mine.

“No tempting me after tonight,” he ordered, tempering the command with a kiss on the forehead.

I laughed, drawing a line down his chest with my fingertip. “Baby, I don’t have to do anything to tempt you. I tempt you just by walking around. I tempt you by existing.”

He rubbed his nose against mine. “Someone’s gotten a big head these last two years.”

“Your fault.”

We lay snuggled together as the curtains fluttered in the breeze. Patrick had his quirks, and one of them was always keeping a window open a crack.

He had a dislike of feeling caged. He wanted to breathe.

The fact that he’d asked me to spend my life with him had more significance than most people realized. Back at the beginning, in college, we’d been too gun-shy to pursue anything more than an arrangement — for months. He believed relationships were not to be trusted, and I thought I had to put on a show to be loved.

I kissed Patrick’s chest. He made a happy sighing noise, pulling me closer. Those days seemed very far away now. But I didn’t take it for granted, for one single second, that he believed in us enough to put his trust in me for a lifetime.

*

The next two weeks were the busiest, and the fastest, of my life.

Mostly, it was a good kind of busy. But as the wedding approached, anticipation mounted, and little incidents picked away at my joy. Tiny needles, no big deal on their own, but irritating once they added up.

My mom insisted that we change the seating so Patrick's parents weren't at the same table, but Patrick's mom, Lee Anna, had called me a week earlier to request the opposite.

“I want us all to sit together—me, Patrick's dad, Nick and Eddie, and my second husband. We've been married almost six years, I want him and Patrick's dad to finally meet. Oh, this is going to be a beautiful occasion...a big adventure...one loving family…”

She sounded misty, and I wondered if she was day drinking.

Our photographer got sick. Our caterer double-booked.

Dexter, my ex, had the nerve to send a fake, sugary card. Jess, Patrick's ex, sent one too, but I put hers on the mantel instead of the garbage can. I liked Jess. But a day later, I caught Patrick eyeing the card, his huge shoulders hunched. Maybe it reminded him of all the years he spent in hiding, ashamed of his desires.

Posing as a teddy bear, stifling the wolf.

I put the card away in a drawer.

The little incidents piled up.

And as excited as I was to be getting married to Patrick, I was getting incredibly frustrated at his ban on sex.

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