Page 83 of Lavender Moon

Getting him out of the car is my next challenge. Holding on to both his hands with mine, I try to put my hours at the gym to good use, trying to pull back using my legs. Kaleb is trying to help by leaning forward but he’s dead weight, and it feels like a miracle when he finally straightens his legs and stands.

We make it up the steps with Kaleb leaning on me for support the whole way. Once we’re inside the door, I lock it behind us with a sigh of relief. As much as I would like to get Kaleb to bed properly, if he passes out right here on our kitchen floor, at least he’s safe.

Pushing off the door, I strut passed him to the cupboards and pull out a glass before dispensing it with water from the fridge. When I turn, I find Kaleb eyeing me while he partially leans against the wall. His eyes are half-lidded in a sleepy yet sexy way as they scan me up and down. Slowly, he starts to peel off his jacket, one shoulder at a time before dropping it sloppily on one of the kitchen chairs.

In his black t-shirt, his tattoos blaze against the skin of his biceps, igniting my core against my inner protestations.

Schooling my expression, I clear my throat and approach him with the glass.

“Here, you should drink this and then go get some sleep,” I implore him, holding it out.

Without even looking at the glass, he takes it from my hand and jerkily sets it on the table, never taking those hooded eyes off mine.

If I really wanted to, I could block out the smell of the alcohol and only focus on his signature scent as he steps closer to me. I could pretend that desire for me in his eyes is genuine and unfiltered. I could imagine that he’s putting his hands on my hips and drawing me closer because he really wants to, and not because he’s trying to scratch an itch that his intoxicated state is telling him to.

I could have Kaleb back for a night. I could let myself believe that his body for one night is better than not having him at all, possibly ever again.

“Kaleb, please,” I whisper. “Don’t…”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he grumbles back, leaning down to plant soft kisses along the side of my neck. I melt into him slightly. “You want this,” he ascertains, and it almost sounds like a caution.

“Not like this,” I reply in another quiet gust of breath, feeling helpless to my yearning for him. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t get naked for your husband?” His warm breath teases against my skin and I feel the tenderness between my legs betray me. “Come on, baby, it’s been a long time since we’ve rocked each other’s world.” His tone turns mischievous as his hands slide up under my shirt. They are warm and possessive against my ribcage, making me want to give in so badly. I need to get away from him.

“Kaleb, stop…” I begin to struggle, pushing against his chest, and alternating with trying to pull his arms from around me, but it makes him pull me harder against him, his crotch pushing against my abdomen.

“Feel that?” he teases in my ear. “That’s for you, baby.”

The idea that it’s really for whoever happens to be conveniently in his presence at this moment is the last push I need.

“Kaleb, enough,” I grit out, trying to push at him again, but he continues to hold me fast.

“Calm down,” he pants, his breathing picking up. “Let me make my wife moan on our kitchen table.”

The next three moments seem to slow down as I feel the earth shift and my emotions snap. Because Kaleb puts his hands on my arms. He doesn’t grip hard, as he tries to turn me in the direction of the table. It’s not threatening or controlling either, but with my emotions and efforts to get away from him already simmering, that’s all it takes. I feel myself rapidly bubble over and erupt and without thinking, I knee jerk. Literally. My knee swiftly swings upward to meet his groin with a good wham, and I shove him back with the strength of my arms against his shoulders. When time snaps back, my asshole husband is crouched over, holding his junk and wheezing.

Shit.

“Oh my God,” I gasp out, looking down in horror at what I’ve done to him.

“What the–” he pants out between coughs, “–fuck, Luna?!”

“I’m sorry, I…” I try to explain but I catch myself. I can’t tell him about Carter. He’s not ready to know that my fuck-wad ex put his hands on my arms before throwing me down a flight of stairs. “I’m sorry.” I swallow hard before trying to come up with something better than apologizing over and over. “I didn’t mean to do that, it just… I have never seen you like this, and I panicked.”

“Makes me wonder,” he wheezes as he tries gingerly to straighten up, “why you want this marriage to work out so bad when you’d rather put me out of commission than make love with me,” he grumbles, making my head snap up.

“If you were sober and sincere,” I grit out, my frustration rising, “and if I really felt that that was what you wanted, I’d let you make love to me all fucking night. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me, and I would do everything to you.”

Kaleb’s eyebrows raise slightly as his shoulders lift and fall with a heavy breath.

“But right now, you’re plowed and temporarily forgetting that you don’t want me. And what I can’t take is you waking up and remembering that in the morning!” I confess, when suddenly, a drop of moisture leaks out of the corner of my eye, quickly followed by another on the other side.

I was determined to make none of this about me until Kaleb was better, but it felt good to let a small drop of my emotions leak out in a moment I don’t expect him to remember anyway.

Taking a cleansing breath, I shake my head as if trying to snap myself out of it before walking past him and towards my bedroom.

* * *

---