Marriage Matters

Thirty-eight

The hotel room in Venice stunned Kristine into silence. Luxury permeated the space, from the lush, pale blue carpet to the gilded lamps and mirrors lining the walls to the stately antique chairs in the sitting areas. French doors led out to a balcony overlooking the canal, draped by sheer white curtains waving like sails in the breeze.

Surprised, Kristine looked at her husband. “This must have—”

He shrugged. “Amazing what a billion hotel miles can get you.”

Slowly, she walked into the room. She ran her hand over the pale blue velvet covering the backs of the furniture and her eyes darted to the bed. Twice the size of any bed she had ever seen, it was tucked into a nook of the room, as though playing hard to get. A silver tray was set up on the duvet, offering up a treasure of Italian chocolates, champagne and red roses.

“What’s all this?” she asked, swallowing hard.

Kevin didn’t answer. Instead, he took off his sunglasses and laid them neatly on a side table. Then he walked to the bed and removed the tray of champagne and roses. As he touched the light switch on the wall, the room descended into darkness.

Kristine’s palms started to sweat. In the light from the canal, she could see her husband striding over to her. Without a word, he scooped her up into his arms and deposited her onto the duvet. She braced herself for a gentle, questioning touch, one that she wouldn’t know how to answer. But to her surprise, he grabbed her body and pulled it roughly to him.

“I’m just going to warn you.” His breath was ragged in her ear. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be a sensitive guy.”

Without waiting for her response, he pushed down the straps of her sundress and buried his face between her breasts. Kristine felt a sweet longing flood through her. His hands were everywhere, exploring her body like he used to, back when it seemed as though there would never be enough time to be together.

Kevin, Kevin, Kevin . . .

Pressing her body up against him, Kristine grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. It felt almost angry as he possessed her mouth with his. She bit his lips, thrusting her tongue in his mouth and tasting his skin, until he gave a low groan.

Desperately, she fumbled for his belt buckle and yanked down his pants. He lowered himself on top of her, the hair from his body coarse against her legs. He grabbed her hands and brought them over her head, pinning them against the mattress.

Poised just above her, his breath ragged, he gazed into her eyes. His expression was fierce, his eyes dark and questioning. In response, Kristine arched her back, brushing her body against him. Then, with a sharp thrust, he buried himself inside of her.

She held perfectly still, giving herself time to absorb him, to remember how this was. Then, with a sudden rush of feeling, the pain melted into pleasure. He made love to her with an intensity she hadn’t felt in years, and Kristine gripped his shoulders tighter and tighter, until she shattered against him.

Kevin let out a roar as he came, collapsing on top of her in a heap of sweat and emotion. They lay there together working to catch their breath, the duvet kicked aside and slipping to the floor. Kevin leaned forward and held her tight, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“I love you, Kristine,” he whispered. Then he kissed her as though he would drown.