I exit the elevator and am greeted with a sense of silence that weighs on me.
I suddenly wonder if Trina snuck out when Eugene was helping another resident. As I waited for the elevator in the lobby, I noted how he took off to aid an older woman carrying what looked to be her weight in shopping bags.
Eugene scooped them up easily as soon as he opened the lobby door.
“Trina!” I call out into the vastness of this place I call home.
Truthfully, aside from the study, it hasn’t felt like home until recently.
I’d attribute that to having Lloyd and Trina as temporary houseguests, but it’s more than that.
I’ve enjoyed the light-hearted banter I’ve shared during dinners with Lloyd and the unspoken greetings in the kitchen in the mornings between my wife and me.
Lloyd is oblivious to the fact that we haven’t spent the night wrapped around each other in my bed.
For the most part, I’ve spent most nights tossing and turning for hours until I drift off to restless sleep.
That has nothing to do with the comfort level of the mattress or the unfamiliar surroundings.
I’ve gotten caught up in too many what-if thoughts and moments spent listening to the steady even breaths of my wife as she slept in the next room.
“I’m here.” Her voice travels from the east wing. “I was looking for something.”
I turn to see her on the approach.
She’s wearing ripped jeans and a light blue blouse.
I suppose some would call it a casual look, but it looks elegant and sophisticated on her.
Trina Shaw is a timeless beauty.
She’d steal a man’s breath regardless of the century.
“What were you looking for?” I ask.
She moves to stand in front of me. “I found it.”
I gaze down at her hands, grateful to see the rings on her finger. “Is it invisible?”
That pulls a laugh from her. Her hand dives into the front pocket of her jeans. She tugs out a diamond stud earring. “It’s this. It must have fallen out of my ear in the library the other night.”
“I’m glad you found it.”
“Me too.” She shrugs, dropping the earring back into her pocket. “It’s not real, but my sister gave me the earrings as a gift years ago. They have a lot of sentimental value.”
I make a mental note to buy her a pair of diamond stud earrings tomorrow.
They may never hold any value to her beyond their purchased worth, but she deserves them. Her beauty will always surpass them, but it will certainly complement the earrings.
“Lloyd went out for a couple of hours.” She sighs. “He looked so happy, Graham. Is it wrong to hope that he’s feeling better and that he’ll…”
“Have more time?” I finish her sentence.
She chews on the corner of her bottom lip. “I’m not a doctor, but he looks better since he arrived in New York. There’s more color in his cheeks. He’s walking with more bounce in his step. He seems to have more joy.”
I’ve noticed it too and attributed it to my wife.
She’s changed my life. How could she not do the same for Lloyd?
“Maybe that’s wishful thinking,” she continues, “I’ve gotten to know him better since I started living here, and I don’t want him to die.”
I watch as her bottom lip trembles.
“I don’t want that either,” I confess.
“We’ve made him happy, haven’t we?” she whispers. “I mean this marriage, and our living together, it’s been good for him, hasn’t it?”
Nodding, I take a step closer to her. “It has been good for him.”
Her gaze trails over my face stopping at my lips. “I’m getting used to being married to you.”
I fight off a smile. “Are you?”
She steps closer to me. “It’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”
Tossing caution out the goddamn window, I drop a hand to my wife’s hip, hoping like hell she doesn’t slap me across the face. “It’s better than you thought it would be.”
Her hand moves to cover mine. “It’s going to get even better, Graham.”
Not wanting to read between the lines, even though I’m pretty fucking sure she’s talking about sex, I act dumb. “How so?”
That earns me a tap on my cheek from her palm. “Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I tug her closer so she can feel what she’s doing to me. I want her to know that I’m hard as nails just from standing close to her. “You want me to fuck you, Mrs. Locke.”
Her eyes meet mine. “If we’re stuck with each other for the time being, we might as well make the best of it.”
I bark out a laugh. “Frame it however the hell you want to, but you want me, Trina. You can’t deny that.”
She rests her hand on my shoulder as her lips glide over my cheek toward my ear. “If you’re as good in bed as you were in the library, I’m going to enjoy being your wife until we’re divorced.”
I claim her lips in a soft, lush kiss that leaves her breathless in my arms.
“You’ll enjoy it,” I whisper as our lips part. “I promise you’re going to enjoy it a hell of a lot.”
She lets out a faint moan. “Prove it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Trina
“We’re going to use condoms,” I tell him as I slowly unbutton my blouse.
Graham eyes me from where he’s standing near the bed. His bed.
We’re in his bedroom. I’ve called it home since the day we married, but this is the first time he’s been in here with me for longer than a minute.
He gestures to the nightstand. “I have condoms.”
I silently berate myself for not peeking in the nightstand drawers before now.
I never thought to, or maybe my subconscious kept me from doing it out of fear of what I’d find inside.
“Your clothes,” I say as I reach the last button. “You’re not undressing.”
That’s not the whole truth.
He’s removed his tie and suit jacket. Both landed on a chair in the corner of this room, but he hasn’t taken off his shirt or pants.
He’s been watching me with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I will,” he whispers. “I don’t want to miss a moment of this.”
I’ve never shied away from showing my body to a man. I won’t with my husband either.
I slide the blouse from my shoulders and toss it on the same chair where his clothes are.
Before I remove my bra, I undo my jeans. The entire time I keep my gaze on Graham’s face.
“You’re staring at me,” I accuse, suddenly wanting to cut through the intensity of his expression.
“How could I not?” he asks as he stalks toward me. He takes sure and measured steps as his fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt.
By the time he’s in front of me, his entire chest is exposed. Then the shirt falls to the floor at my feet, granting me my first view of my husband’s naked torso.
Damn.
He’s all cut muscle and planes of smooth skin.