‘Please.’
How can I refuse? Simply put, I can’t. I get up and strip down, drawn to her by an invisible force that’s magic in its power. Taking her hand, I step in the bath and walk her forward a few paces, and then lower myself, bringing Ava carefully down with me until she’s snug between my thighs.
‘We’ll have some tub-talk.’ I take her hair and push it over her shoulder and down her front. ‘You think you can resist me?’
‘No.’ Her arms come up over her head and circle my neck, her head resting to the side, her eyes closing. ‘What’s Paradise?’ she asks, the question coming from left field. ‘I keep seeing blue sea and . . .’ She pauses for a beat, thinking. ‘I think it’s a villa.’
I recline and slide my hands onto her tummy. ‘It’s a special place. We got married there.’
‘You told me we got married at your fancy sex club.’ Her eyes remain closed, only confirming the exhaustion she’s trying to fight.
‘We did. And then we renewed our vows on the beach.’ I smile fondly. ‘And then I took you for a swim in the sea.’
‘Sounds romantic.’ Her legs entwine with mine, slippery skin on slippery skin. ‘Tell me how old you are.’
Before I can utter a lie again, I give pause, wondering if it will truly mean anything to her if I continue with this game. So far, it hasn’t spiked a damn thing in her mind. I chew over my next move for way too long and finally decide to bite the bullet. ‘I just turned fifty.’
I don’t know what to expect. Maybe a gasp of shock. Or horror. Or . . . I don’t know, but the silence seems worse, because no shock means I must fucking look my age.
Long seconds pass. Still no reaction. Maybe she’s fallen asleep. Or maybe she didn’t hear me. Or maybe she thinks she didn’t hear me right. ‘I said, I’m fif—’
‘I heard you.’ Cutting me off, she opens her eyes and looks up at me. ‘I already knew. I just wanted to see how long you’d keep up the blatant lies.’
She knew? ‘How?’
‘Kate told me.’ She returns to her comfy spot and sighs, while I plot my revenge on Kate. ‘So I guess that means I don’t need to handcuff you to a bed this time?’
Kate is forgotten. Hope is back. ‘You remember?’
‘No, Kate told me.’ She chuckles, and I sag in disappointment. ‘I can’t believe I did that to you.’
‘Neither could I,’ I grumble, absent-mindedly tracing circles on her hips with the tips of my fingers, relishing her subtle squirms.
A comfortable silence falls, Ava snoozing peacefully, me staring at the ceiling, happy to let her rest undisturbed.
I have a few precious days before the kids come home to help Ava find the breakthrough she needs, and my confidence that I can is slipping with each hour that passes. With the twins home, we’ll have to readjust all over again. Trivial things such as taking them to school will be an issue for both of us – Ava because she doesn’t even know what damn school they go to, or where it is, and me because I never want to let her drive ever again. Never want her to leave my sight. Leaving my family, even for only a few hours, has always been a challenge for me. Stupid, yes. Or maybe not so stupid, given where I am now. The first day of school for the twins was one of the worst days of my life. The teacher didn’t take too kindly to me refusing to leave the classroom, and Ava ended up dragging me out by my shirt. And to rub salt into my grumpy wounds, my babies didn’t bat an eyelid when I left. I sulked the whole way to work. But, of course, my wife can’t remember any of that.
Remember, I demand silently, boring holes into the back of her head, willing the memories to rise to the surface. Remember me. Remember us. This helpless feeling isn’t getting better, no matter how many new memories I’m building in an attempt to replace the old ones. The old memories are the original memories. Back then, she didn’t need to love me. She chose to, even though it could be argued that I didn’t give her much choice. Now, I can’t help the tinge of worry that this time she really doesn’t feel like she has much choice. She woke up with that ring on her finger. She woke up with a ready-made family. She woke up to people, people she loves and knows, telling her who I am and who she is. My wife. The mother of my children. My fucking world.
My sigh is deep, despondent, and my chest lifts, rolling Ava upon it. I flatten my palms on her hips and stroke gently onto her thighs, making wide circles across her skin. I don’t miss the slight tensing of her body, and I notice her nipples have hardened in the steaming water. Her arms, still linked over my head, shift a little, as does her bottom, catching me a treat on my growing cock. I cringe to myself and still my hands. What was I thinking, putting myself in the bath with her? Talk about a glutton for punishment. She shifts again, and this time I growl under my breath, biting down on my tongue to get me through the amazing feeling of her soft arse nuzzling my cock. She’s doing this on purpose, trying to break me, wear me down, get the upper hand.
My hands take on a mind of their own and slide a fraction inward, taking my touch to between her thighs. I relax and let my senses guide me, and right now my senses want her in every way they can. My face plummets to her hair and I inhale, my fingers creeping closer to her centre. Her legs spread, opening like they could be the gates to heaven. Her face turns out, her cheek resting on my pec, her eyes closed, her lips parted.
‘You want me to touch you, baby?’ I ask quietly, skimming the swollen lips at her entrance teasingly before withdrawing, going back to circling her thighs. Her body arches on me, her boobs lifting, sending streams of water pouring down the sides of her body. ‘Is that a yes?’
One hand leaves the back of my neck and reaches down for my hand, trying to put it where she wants it to be. The fact that that’s where I want my hand to be, too, is beside the point. She needs to ask. Nicely.
‘Tell me,’ I all but growl, resisting her attempts to move my hand. ‘You want my fingers where my cock was last night?’ I break free of her hold and take my hands to the perfect mounds of her wet breasts, cupping each one.
All she seems to be able to do is mumble broken sounds of pleasure, water lapping her body as she gently squirms on top of me.
‘I can’t hear you.’ I dip and nibble at her ear. ‘Lost for words, lady?’
‘Oooh, God.’
I smile. ‘That’s better.’ I move my hands back to between her legs and massage her gently, keeping my touch just shy of her entrance. Fuck, she feels so good. So wet, so warm, so mine. Her whole being goes lax above me, every curve melting into my chest and thighs, her weight perfectly placed, her arms back to curling around my neck. Her head falls limply to the side, eyes drowsy, and I just watch her, transfixed as I play with her, tease her, slowly breach her entrance and withdraw again. ‘Feel good?’ I whisper.
Her answer is a long, breathy sigh. I’m fucking solid, but I have no desire to roll us over and sink into her. I just want to watch her take the pleasure I’m giving.
All. Day. Long.