She nods. Her eyes are wet, welling with tears, and I feel impotent—a real, brutal, deep-down sense of not being enough. It’s a million times worse than my dick being lazy sometimes.
“Let’s frame it,” I say gently. “Please. I want to. I remember that morning. My meetings. The coffee we got before we walked through the market. That was a great morning.”
“It was,” she whispers. “Until that conversation about the painting. I bought it anyway, out of spite, but then you checked out. And you don’t remember the rest of the day, which—” She drags in a ragged breath. “Well, I guess I understand that now. But I don’t like it, you know?”
“Yeah.”
She gives me a grim smile and packs her books away.
I look at the other print. It’s a coast at sunset. Similar colours to the English painting, but wilder. “What is this from?”
“I bought that for you on my work trip to San Francisco.” She sighs and stands up, pushing past me. “I gave it to you when I got back. I’m pretty sure you don’t remember that, either.”
I don’t.
I’m starting to realize there’s a lot from the last three years that I don’t remember, and that’s really disturbing.
I can’t stand what I do remember. What the fuck is going to happen when I realize just how truly awful I’ve been to the most important person in my entire world?
“We’ll figure it out together.” She brushes her fingertips over my mouth, and I realize I asked that question out loud. “I think it’s time you come home.”
27
Grace
That night, he doesn’t leave. We don’t fool around, he just holds me as we fall asleep, and it’s wonderful.
When I left Javi’s hotel room, I was sure I just wasn’t ready to have sex again, period, and there’s still a part of me that thinks that might be true. I think that I hate how much I love the touch of Luke’s skin against mine. How right that feels even after all the damage.
But the next day, I stop at a drugstore just in case and get a box of condoms. I tuck them into my underwear drawer, and there they sit, a ticking time bomb of dirty potential.
We make fresh spring rolls together for dinner, and it’s just as flirty as the night before.
After dinner, as we’re tidying the kitchen, I tap his hip to nudge him out of the way, and get a little too much front-of-the-jeans territory to be a polite nudge.
Luke groans as my fingers graze the half-ready bulge behind his jeans.
“Do you like that?”
He gasps as I grope him again. His gaze darkens as he backs me up against the counter, but only enough to cage me in. He doesn’t take control, and I keep touching him. Tracing the shape of his cock, hard and long behind his fly.
“I like the sounds you make.” I lick my lips. “You’re never loud, unless you’re trying to…”
His mouth twists. “Dirty talk?”
“Sometimes it was good. It was very good that time in your apartment downstairs…”
He tips his head to the ceiling, baring his neck, and I hop up onto the counter so I can pull him closer.
I hook my fingers into his waistband and tug.
He groans. Out loud, lusty and raw.
The tip of my middle finger is almost grazing him inside his jeans. Almost, but not quite. I tug him again, bringing him into the vee of my legs, and he shudders.
“Really?” I whisper against his neck, my lips brushing his tense flesh. “Is that hot?”
“My little bird being handsy and demanding? Her sweet little fingers almost brushing my cock?”
That right there. That’s the good kind of dirty talk that I like. It gets under my skin because it’s real, uncensored, just the like the noises he’s making.
It’s all authentic. Not an act, not a controlled version of what Luke thinks he should be.
This is who my husband is, and I’m only just seeing it now. “Little bird, eh?”
“Do you like that?”
I nod. And then I feel the siren call of the condoms. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
He grins. “Of course.”
I shake my head. This isn’t quite right. I soften my voice. “It’s a question for a Daddy.”
His face firms up. “Oh?”
That shouldn’t make my panties wet, but it does. Oh, it does. “Um, so…I need to demonstrate something for class.”
“Timeout.” He puts his hands in the air.
I laugh, my voice returning to normal. “Too much?”
“Nope, not at all. That was hot as fuck, and I think I like where this is going, but you said we needed to negotiate this stuff because you have some limits, and I think I need us to do that right now, before I ruin what might be the hottest thing ever.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh. Yeah. That’s…smart.” I squirm on the spot. “All right. But you need to go first. Any limits?”
“I don’t think so? I don’t want you to tie me up.” He gives me a helpless look. “Do I need to take that quiz right now? How long does it take?”
“Not long, but no. You can take it later. Right now, I guess just what I need you to know is that I’m going to say some stuff that makes me sound young, but that’s a variable headspace state for me. It comes and it goes, and I’m always Grace. When we did this before, and you used my name…that was really hot.” I take a deep breath. “I love our size difference, so if you call me little, I love that, and I like being baby girl, but I don’t like any specific references to me being a child or anything like that.”
He nods. “Totally. Down with all of that. But the school thing…?”
“Yeah. That’s my headspace stuff. So think of it like an alternate dimension, where I’m me, Grace, a grown-up, but I also go to high school. I’m not a teenager, but… maybe innocent like one.” His eyes do something very hot when I say innocent. There’s a small tug in my belly that reminds me that he once chose a younger woman, but I can look at that and move on, because I like the rest of this. “Is that a good thing for you? The innocent stuff?”
“It is if it’s you,” he breathes, and sweeps me into his arms. “Very good thing. Very hot.”
“Can we drop out of timeout? Because I have this assignment thing that I need help with…”
“Fuck yes.” He plants a searing kiss on my mouth and lifts me up. “Where can I help you with this?”
“Bedroom.”
He carries me to our room and sets me down.
I twist my arms in front of me and look bashful—except for my nipples, which are so hard I’m pretty sure they’re giving away the plot a bit, but that’s fine. It’s supposed to be fun. This is everything I thought it could be and more. “So the thing is, for health class, I’ve been assigned a demonstration task, and I don’t know how to do it.”
His stern Daddy look is back. “Can you be more specific?”
I lean in close and whisper, “It’s embrarassing.”
He raises an eyebrow. How can you demonstrate something if you’re embarrassed by it?