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Foster stares confusedly at me. “How was it different?”
“More passionate, like a lover’s kiss.”
“Did you like it?”
I avert my eyes, tracing my finger over the striations in the counter. “I would be lying if I said no.”
Foster comes up next to me and cups my face. His hand is warm and soft, and so are his lips when he presses them to mine. This time he is more aggressive, licking the seam of my mouth until I open, allowing him to thrust his tongue inside and probe.
I can’t help myself as he pulls me against his body, moaning softly. His hands travel down my sides, meeting at my waist where he laces at the small of my back. Goosebumps raise along my skin as though I was being lit by electricity going through a wire. Foster breaks from my lips and trails kisses down along my cheek until he got to my neck, where he latches and sucks.
I cling to him, tugging desperately at his gray sweater as he returns his lips to mine. Foster starts moving me backward, guiding me down the hall. It dawns on me that we are heading to his bedroom, which causes me to tear my mouth from his.
“No,” I protest.
His forehead crinkles with confusion. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I can’t have sex with you.”
Foster untangles his arms from me, and we’re left staring at each other for a few seconds before I leave for my bedroom. I lock the door behind me, but a minute later, there’s knocking.
“We should talk,” he says through it.
I lean my cheek against the cool wood. “About what?”
“What just happened.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I won’t have this discussion through the door. I’ll be in my office.”
His footsteps grow fainter as he walks away. I sag against the door. Foster has no idea how close I was to say yes. It is undeniable that there has been a sexual tension between us that kept building after we married, but given everything, it’s better I avoid him, so that’s what I plan to do.
On Sunday, Foster is gone most of the day at the office, and I stay in my room, only coming out for a quick meal. I don’t see him until Monday morning when he is putting on his coat, and I am coming out to get a cup of coffee. Foster just glances at me and continues what he was doing. We are back to ignoring each other.
I get to the office a few minutes late since I decide to take the subway and there is a slight delay. I breeze into my office at 9:03 AM, plopping into my chair after I remove my coat. As I change out of the sneakers I wore for commuting; Mark pokes his head in the door.
“Mrs. Black, Mr. Black, would like to see you in his office.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
He hesitates. “I think you better go now. He’s not in a very good mood.”
I sigh, shoving my feet into my shoes before rising from my chair. Mark is already at his desk when I get to Foster’s door.
“You can go in. He’s waiting for you.”
When I step inside, Foster has his chair turned backward toward the bookcases behind his desk, so I can’t see his face.
“Close the door, Paige, and sit down,” he says brusquely.
I do as he requests. Startling me, he whips around, and the first thing I notice is the dark marks under his eyes—something I hadn’t seen earlier this morning.
I grip the arms of the chair because the pulsing of the vein at his temple tells me he is angry. “What’s this about?” I softly ask.
Foster scratches at his stubble, another thing I missed this morning. He almost always shaves before going to work unless he spends the day at home.
“You don’t know?”
