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He closes his eyes tight, like my hand on his skin burns.
I put my free hand on his back. I move it up and down.
He’s shaking now. Hard.
His eyes open and pain slashes across his features as he grabs my face with both hands. He’s holding me a little rough, his grip is a little too hard. His chest moves up and down with heavy breathing as I sidestep and begin to back up into the open bedroom doorway.
He follows, looking conflicted, still holding my face.
His eyes land on something. I look over my shoulder. The envelope lying on the nightstand.
“Do you want to see what’s inside?” I ask.
“Maybe,” he says carefully.
He still has my face in his hands. I try to move away, but his grip tightens.
“Open it,” I urge, gently.
Uncertainty is in his eyes as he lets go of me and lifts the envelope.
He pulls out the cardboard sheets and the lined sheet of paper, frowning.
“The book report I owe you.”
He jerks in surprise, eyes scanning the lined sheet of paper. He sets it down and looks at the three cardboard color charts in his hand.
“That’s for ideas for the closet and the bathroom. I didn’t want to just pick a paint color without you, but I can’t take that green that much longer. And the other–”
I’m rendered speechless, because my nightgown is ripped from my body, and I’m thrown on the bed. The book report flies off the nightstand and the paint charts are on the floor.
My husband is on me.
His shirt is flying over his head. The clothing south of his waist is all falling and now he’s covering me, mouth on mine, slamming his hips forward, filling me. Our needy sounds fill the space around us. They fill our room, in our house, where we’re going to grow old together. Where we’ll raise a family.
I clamp around him and weave my fingers into his hair, about to say something, but his tongue is in my mouth, then he nips my bottom lip, and it smarts. I jolt with the pain, and he pulls out, flips me to my stomach, and drives back inside me.
“Mine. My wife. My Chloe. Mine. Fuck.” His teeth clamp down on my shoulder.
I whimper, fisting the bedding as his hand slips beneath me and cups me between the legs. His fingers work magic while he slams into me over and over again, grunting like a wild animal. My wild animal.
I’m flipped again and he’s glaring into my eyes now.
“Never. Never want to be away from you again. Never.”
I shake my head. “Never.”
He grabs my face.
I notice the necklace he’s wearing.
My wedding and engagement ring are dangling there.
I burst into tears, and he looks confused for a second until I fit my palm under them and sniffle.
“I’ve had them close to my heart this whole time,” he says.
He’s still wearing his wedding ring. And he’s worn mine close to his heart.
