Page 95 of Graciously His

“Yes, love. It’s all over. You were so good, so brave. I’m…” I can’t say I’m proud of her. I’m not. Because I know I went too far, and she didn’t even know how to tap out. She was good and brave and fucking perfect. I was a monster. “Let’s get you into the shower, okay? I’ll take care of everything. You just—you just lean on me, if you can.”

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice thick as if her throat hurts.

I want to punch myself in the face. She’s not fine, and she shouldn’t feel as if she has to lie to me. I have failed her completely if this is her reaction to my overstepping. She should be screaming. Giving me the smackdown I absolutely deserve. Throwing shit and breaking things. Then… then she should leave me.

“Can I take you into the shower, Grace? I’ll wash you, that’s all. No other touching.”

She nods her consent, and I run the shower until it’s warm. I say nothing as I work shampoo then conditioner into her hair, as I scrub the day from her body. I whisper to her the whole time, every action accompanied by words.

I love you, Grace…

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

I might be a monster… but I love you…

She listens, her swollen lips parted though she doesn’t answer.

I dry us both off then carry her to bed.

She’s lying there, damp hair fanned out on the pillow, big eyes dark in the half-light, the sheet tucked up under her chin, when a memory slinks into my mind. Another woman in a narrower bed, chest rising and falling painfully, trying to breathe a few minutes longer, while Nick and I—

“Are you okay, big heart?” Grace asks, and I think I might break.

I’ve damaged the woman I love and I need to fix everything forever. And I can’t.

“Grace,” I whisper, seating myself beside her on the edge of the bed. I don’t touch her. I don’t deserve to. “What I did to you was beyond anything I can apologise for, and—”

“It’s fine, Nate,” she says, smiling gently, her eyes present but sleepy.

I want to believe her. She’s settled back into herself in a way I recognise, quick to shake off the horror of what I’ve done. Somehow, that makes it worse.

“It’s not fine,” I answer, my voice raw and weak. “It’s not fucking fine, Grace. I—I violated you and you didn’t want it. Don’t tell me you did—I know your history. And I didn’t tell you how to stop me, and—”

She sits up, her fingertips pressing over my lips. “Do you think I’m stupid, Nate?”

I frown against her hand. Before I can brush her fingers aside and assert that, no, I’m well-aware that she’s fucking brilliant, she continues.

“If I needed to stop you, I’d have stopped you. I didn’t like it and I won’t do it again anytime soon, but I could have stopped you.”

I pull away. “Not when I’d fucked up the safe word, Grace. Not when I told you I would leave you alone here tomorrow if—”

I stop. The tears have overspilled. I turn my face away, readying myself to get up. I need space. She needs space. We need to go to separate corners to cool off.

Before I can leave, Grace sits up, the sheets falling to reveal her—naked and silvery in the moonlight seeping through the sliding doors. She grabs my shoulders, pulling until I’m lying on top of her, my lips against her neck. My tears land on her skin as she murmurs to me the way I should be doing for her. Telling me she’s fine, that mistakes happen, that if I’m a monster I’m her monster.

I slide off her, unsure of how to hold her without being sexual.

“Shhh, turn around, Nate.”

I obey, then she’s spooning up behind me, her arm around my waist, her breath whispering along my neck. I shiver. I should get up and finish her aftercare. I should go work off this grief and guilt on my own. But my wife is petting me, her small, warm hand running down my side in long, languid caresses.

“I have you,” she whispers, and something I buried along with my mother comes to life. I turn over, cuddle in close, and let myself get utterly lost in my wife.

***

The last thing I want is to share Grace. Even a few hours with Mihi, a few minutes with Eileen, a second with the Munchausen bitch—it’s too much. Especially after last night. The time is like a deficit that’ll never be corrected, and the prospect of introducing her to the people in the Auckland office is enough to make me a grumpy fuck the next morning.

Never mind that we spent half the night with my cock buried between her legs. The sheets are streaked with the evidence. I strip them off quickly, remembering how a sleepy, gorgeous Grace accepted me again and again into her body, falling asleep to the slow thrust of my half-hard cock, both of us spent yet connected. It erased some of my horror at what I did to her in the bathroom, but now all I can think about is her face after I used her so horribly.