Renewing Their Vows by Jessa Kane

Four

Grace

Tanya is definitely having regrets about letting me stay with her.

I can barely hold a conversation.

We’re sitting on her couch in the living room of her small apartment, my slice of pizza sitting untouched on the coffee table in front of me. Some reality show plays out on the television, but every word blaring from the screen sounds alien and screechy. A sharp pain took up residence in my head four days ago and nothing I do combats it. The pain only gets worse and it’s nothing compared to the gaping emptiness in my chest. I’m not even sure there’s a beating heart inside of me anymore or if I’m an actual zombie at this point.

“Did you see Mrs. Seaford’s socks today?” Tanya asks, referring to the school’s gym teacher. “Fuchsia hearts. All the way up to her knees. Everyone thinks it’s a sign she has a new girlfriend. She communicates these things in socks.”

“Oh,” I say dully, my head protesting the fact that I’m speaking. Or doing anything but staring straight ahead. “That’s great. I’m happy for her.”

My gaze snags on the plate of pizza in front of me. At the mere idea of taking a bite, my stomach pitches, but I take one anyway, chewing it mechanically. I do it for the life growing inside of me. The baby I created with my husband.

I stop chewing, my throat constricting.

Moisture floods my vision, blurring the moving images on the television.

Oh God.

Oh God, I miss him so much.

Back when we were eighteen, we were separated for almost a week and both of us barely survived it. Now? It’s a different ball game. I’ve developed an attachment that far exceeds the one from before. I’m made of sand without him, sifting through time, being carried on the wind, insubstantial. There’s only one place where I can land and become firm, become human again. And it’s with him. There is no learning to live without North. That simply isn’t an option for me, but I don’t know what else I could have done.

I’m still in shock over his actions.

When I saw him shaking hands with Tennison, I flashed back to that morning with my father, during my senior year of high school. How sick and afraid and unsafe it made me feel, knowing this person I was supposed to trust has turned to the dark side. I never expected the same thing to happen with North. My North. He’s honor driven and true. It makes no sense. It just doesn’t. But he admitted it right to my face, so I have no choice but to come to terms with the reality of what he’s done. What he’s doing. Losing a fight to line the pockets of bad people, filling our bank accounts with dirty money in the process.

It’s so unlike him.

But I saw it all happen right there in front of my eyes.

Why, North? I don’t need to be rich. I only need you.

Now that he’s brought these negative forces into our lives, though…can we ever be together again? I don’t know. I have the baby to think about and I won’t bring him or her into a world where their life is in danger. And so…I guess I have to change my world. Again. Move on…without my husband.

I make a choked sound, barely managing to swallow the bite of pizza.

When I look up, Tanya is standing at the front window of her apartment, shaking her head. “He’s still out there, you know.” She sighs, letting the curtain fall back into place. “What I wouldn’t give to have a man stalk me like that. Especially one who looks like that.”

My heart starts beating faster over the fact that North is close by. Still. He’s been following me for the last four days, trailing behind me in the shadows on the way to work. Walking several yards behind me and Tanya on the way back here, to the apartment. He sits outside at night, across the street in his black Chevy with the racing stripe, looking worse and worse every time I see him. Unshaven, eyes sunken in, the life slowly draining out of him, the same way it’s leaking out of me.

I hate this.

A wave of anger sweeps over me, unexpected. I’ve been unable to feel anything since walking away from North, except for loneliness, shock, yearning. Right now, though, I’m mad that he shattered our trust in one fell swoop. I’m mad that he didn’t even speak to me about what he was planning on doing. He just made this monumental decision on our behalf and it was one that can’t be taken back. It’s done. The deal with the devil has been made.

“Why don’t you go down there and talk to him?” Tanya suggests. “Maybe a little heart-to-heart is all you need to figure things out. You obviously worship each other. I’ve never seen anything like the way he looks at you, Grace. Like you’ve just tumbled down from heaven into his lap. I…don’t think you’re meant to be apart from him.”

“I’m not.” I press my fingers to the ringing in my head. “The work days were hard enough for us, let alone a full four days. But I can’t forgive what he’s done. I don’t think it can be fixed now, either.”

“Must have been something pretty bad.” She casts one more glance at the window. “He’s definitely sorry as hell for whatever it was.”

Another ripple of anger passes through me.

Sorry won’t bring us back together. Sorry can’t make us happy again.

“I know it’s a Tuesday night and all, but maybe we should go out, huh? Get your mind off things for a while.”

“Yes,” I say, without hesitation, standing up on unsteady legs. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go out.”

“Okay!” Tanya claps her hands together. “Let’s go to Whiskey Tavern for happy hour. They have the best wings, I’m not even kidding. I’m going to go change out of these modest work clothes. I want men to know I’m on the market, don’t I?”

Nodding, I watch her leave the room, then crouch down in front of my own suitcase, which is folded up on one side of the couch. When I returned home and packed in a state of grief and hysteria, I didn’t exactly have the wherewithal to pack sensibly, but I did grab a short, tight, flowery skirt and a baby blue, low-cut V-neck. I’m not on the market, like Tanya. Nor will I drink alcohol tonight, since I’m pregnant, but getting out of here will be enough. I can’t sit here and think another second.

And maybe…just maybe…there is a part of me that wants to piss North off.

The way I’m pissed off at him.

Going out to a bar without him is a sure-fire way to accomplish that.

One of us doesn’t go out unless the other is at our side. That rule was never discussed, it’s simply an unspoken tenet of our relationship. We’re jealous over each other, which is funny, because neither one of us would ever touch another person. We’re faithful to the bone. But the mere act of being out in public without his arm around me will drive him insane—and I don’t care right now. I hope he gets mad. I hope he feels a little bit of the helplessness that plagues me from morning to night. It’s only fair, isn’t it?

I change into the skirt, tucking my shirt into the waistband. Freshening up my makeup and twisting my hair into a high knot, letting a few pieces escape around my neck. A borrowed pair of heels from Tanya completes the look—and we grab our purses, heading out. Tanya chats excitedly about everything from the appetizer menu at Whiskey Tavern to school gossip, and I do my best to listen, even as my skin starts to prickle, knowing I’ll see North soon.

When I spot him, he’s leaning against the side of his car across the street from Tanya’s apartment, arms and ankles crossed, his golden stare homed in on the building exit.

On me.

A single eyebrow goes up slowly when he sees me. He pauses in the act of chewing a toothpick, his energy sharpening like the tip of a pencil. He rakes me with a possessive look and a muscle snaps in his cheek.

I avert my gaze quickly, but not fast enough, because my hormones are already throwing an absolute tantrum. Why does my husband have to be so painfully hot? Normally I celebrate his attractiveness, but right now? His big, fighter’s body is tempting me to give in. That possessiveness on display makes me want to revel in it. To forgive the dangerous decision he made and let him take me home, make love to me until we break the bed. Again.

“Oh boy,” Tanya mutters. “I’m going to get caught in a crossfire tonight, aren’t I?”

Guilt prods me in the belly. “I’m sorry, Tanya. You’re being so kind to me and in return, I’m dragging you into this mess—”

“I’ll forgive you, as long as your forgive me for picturing you and North having sex. Like, a lot.” She winces over at me. “It’s my go-to spank bank material.”

“O-oh…oh, well…” I sputter, cheeks heating. “I guess I’m flattered.”

We keep walking and North pushes off the car, throwing his toothpick down into the street and following behind us. The backs of my thighs turn warm under his scrutiny and I know I’m tempting disaster, but I put some extra swivel into my hips, well aware that the hem of my skirt is curved tight to my bottom. When I packed this skirt, it still had the tags on it. North has never seen it on me before, but somehow I already know exactly how he would fist the sides of the material and drag it up past my hips. All while whispering filthy words against my mouth.

I can’t help casting a glance at my husband over my shoulder.

He looks crazed. Eyes on fire. Hair abused and left in disarray by restless fingers.

It hurts me to see him like this, but it’s satisfying my anger at the same time. So even though his obvious pain makes my chest throb, I turn and keep walking. We’re both suffering anyway, right? At least this, getting dressed up and going out, means I’m not sitting in one place and slowly expiring. At least it’s something besides sitting numb and devastated in the pain. The anger is better, more satisfying than sadness right now, and I want to lean into it.

We reach Whiskey Tavern and go inside; the bitter scent of alcohol and dozens of perfume fragrances reach me at once. It’s dark, the music is loud, the conversations louder. The place is packed with locals, some in work clothes, others dressed for a night out, even though it’s Tuesday. Painfully aware that North is hot on our heels, I keep my attention forward and allow Tanya to guide me through the packed establishment, wedging us into a small opening at the end of the bar. She yells her drink order to the bartender, then turns to me questioningly.

“Seltzer with a splash of cranberry, please,” I call over the din.

Thankfully, Tanya doesn’t comment on my non-alcoholic beverage choice. But she does immediately recognize several people at the bar she knows from the neighborhood. I’m glad, actually, when she turns to reminisce about the old days with them, because I’m the furthest thing from good company right now. And I’m even less capable of carrying on a conversation when I feel North nearby. Watching me from the opposite end of the bar. Several men have commandeered him, to talk about fighting, I’m sure.

But the entire time he talks, his eyes are glued to me.

On my nipples, which have turned to tight peaks.

I sip my drink and try to reason with my hormones, but they’re in a state of panic without North to cater to their every whim. My panties are damp, thanks to my husband’s unwavering regard, and there is something about the bar environment that makes me feel sexy and anonymous. Though his hands are the only ones I want on my sensitive skin. No one else’s. Not ever. And while there might be a few interested male glances being thrown my way, no one in this neighborhood has a death wish. They know who I belong to.

A moment later, that truth becomes even more obvious when North excuses himself from the group of men and cuts through the crowd in my direction, the flex in his jaw signaling his determination. To do…what, though?

* * *

North

Every minuteof this is murdering me.

Killing me slowly, torturously.

I need my wife. I need her so bad.

My heart is stricken and useless. At least it has been for the last four days. It’s awake right now, wailing inside of my chest, ricocheting between my stomach and jugular. I’m lovesick. Bereft. There is no reason to travel from one minute to the next unless I have her to live for. So I can’t stay away. She needs space and I physically cannot give it to her, my desire to be close to her is so demanding. Impossible to reason with. And now?

Well. Now I quite simply have to fuck her raw.

Every man in this place wants what’s mine. They watch her pass like hungry wolves, sensing trouble in paradise. Wondering if they’ll finally get to shoot their shot with my Gracie. Never. Never. I almost roar the word into the crowded space as I make my way toward her, watching her awareness grow with every step I take in her direction.

When we were eighteen, right before the first time we had sex, we agreed on something. I decide when and where we make love. I needed to have her trust, her permission, but I’ve seldom needed to call on that rule, since we’re always so mutually eager to be intimate.

I’m calling on it now.

Making demands on her body might be a mistake right now, but I’m too fucked up and heartsick to acknowledge the risk. My body just requires hers. I require my wife to keep breathing—that’s just a fact. North and Grace. Grace and North.

One can’t function without the other.

I’ll remind her of that. I’ll appease this demanding hunger of my body, even if she won’t let me appease the agony in my heart.

I reach Grace through the mass of people and look down into her beautiful face, those tortured blue eyes, and I swallow roughly. Jesus. Four days away and it’s like seeing her for the first time all over again. Her presence is like a freight train plowing into my chest. Christ, she’s so fucking gorgeous. How is this my wife? I ache to say those words out loud, but she’s closed off to me, her mouth in a stubborn line, chin set. She’s come here tonight with the express intention of making me miserable—and it’s working. So instead of telling her I’m sorry, that I love her and she’s beautiful, my words are edged with irritation.

Frustration. Pent-up lust. Jealousy. Possessiveness.

“Answer a question for me, Gracie. Why the hell would you come out in this tight little skirt, huh?” I say the sharp words beside her ear, so she’ll hear me above the noise, my fingertips dragging down the side of the thin garment in question, fisting it roughly at the hem. “When girls dress like this, they want to meet someone. But you’ve already met me, baby. I put a ring on that finger and a child in your belly. As I see it, that means you should be at home. Or at the very least wearing something that advertises a little less of those thighs. We both know they’re never going to open for anyone but me.”

Blue eyes snapping, she shoves at my chest, but I’m not going anywhere.

In fact, I put a forearm around the small of her back and haul her close. Up onto her tiptoes, her high, round tits crushed to my pecs. She exhales in that shaky way that tells me she’s hot to fuck. That she’s got my cock on her mind. If we were home right now, I would unzip. I’d find that tight gate to heaven under her skirt and pump inside, bounce her until she starts crying from the intense pleasure. But we’re not home. She might be horny, but she’s still livid at me—and all I can hear are the words she said to me on the sidewalk near O’Keefe’s.

Are you who I think you are, North?

That question has haunted me for days. It haunts me now.

I’m trying to keep you safe, I want to growl at her. But I can’t. I have to show her I’ve been the same North all along. She’ll have to see it with her own eyes to believe me. Right now, in this broken state of mind, all I can do is get enough of her to sustain me until then, if that’s even possible. Maybe…maybe she hates her husband right now.

But her Daddy is a different entity altogether.

I’m suddenly burning to push the limits of that relationship, probably because she’s cut me off in every other way. If this is the only way I can have her for now, I’ll suck up every drop like a greedy man. I’ll use the only weapon I’ve got to get my Grace fix.

Up until now, this kink between us has been insanely fulfilling. I love when she calls me Daddy. She loves when I call her little girl and say things that imply our relationship is a forbidden thing. We’ve never stretched beyond that, though. Maybe out of fear that diving even deeper could spell an even deeper obsession and attachment for us both. Good. That’s what I want. What I need. I want to find the bottom of our ocean and live there.

“Your mother sent me to come find you,” I say against her temple. “You’re way too young to be in a bar. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ground you.”

Grace sucks in a breath, her gaze flying up to mine.

There’s no mistaking the reluctant excitement there. The surprise.

I’m already kicking myself for not exploring this sooner. My only excuse is that our sex life is already almost too good. We fuck like animals. There wasn’t any reason for a single change. Until now. Until this game became the only conduit to reach my wife.

“Please…” she whispers, wetting her lips. “Don’t ground me. Can’t you just tell her you found me at a coffee shop?”

Ah, Jesus. She’s playing along.

We’re officially going there and my cock loves it. A lot.

I’m already stiff as a motherfucker.

“No. You need some time to think about your actions, young lady.” I take her wrist and start to drag her toward the front of the bar. “Grounding you is for the best.”

“But…please?” She tugs me to a stop, her expression cajoling. Verging on flirtatious. “Can’t I do some chores or something?”

An image flashes into my head. Grace on her hands and knees, bent forward, scrubbing the floor in that tight little skirt and no panties. “My decision stands,” I say thickly.

She pouts, thinks for a moment. “Can’t we stay a little longer, then? Since I’m already in trouble?” She edges closer, closer, until our bodies are pressed together snugly. Then she reaches up and loops her arms around my neck, fingers playing with the ends of my hair. “It’s been a while since we danced together, Daddy.”

This comes so naturally to her. She’s needed this. For me to double down.

Maybe I’ve wanted to go to this forbidden place, as well, I just didn’t need it. Not when Grace already gives me everything I could ever hope for. But now? Seeing how she responds to this kind of play, I know I’ll need it in the future. It will become a favorite pastime of mine because it’s something she loves. “One dance,” I say in a threadbare voice.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, wiggling excitedly against me.

To anyone watching us in this bar, we’re a husband and wife having a romantic moment.

But we’re not husband and wife right now.

We’re man of the house and his wayward teenager.

We shouldn’t be dancing together in a crowded bar—and I definitely shouldn’t be hard.

The character I’m playing is ashamed of his body’s reaction to her. That’s not supposed to happen. It’s the very definition of bad. But he can’t help enjoying the sift of her fingers in the ends of his hair. The suppleness of her young body as it presses in tight, plumping her breasts and drawing his eye. He has to look, doesn’t he? Who could look away? Who wouldn’t marvel over the changes the years have brought to her body?

“You’re a very pretty girl,” I rasp, my right hand slipping slightly lower on her back, magnetized by a place it has no right to go. “Everyone is jealous that I’m the one dancing with you.”

“You think so?” She bites her lip, sneaks a glance at the bar. “Maybe we should make them even more jealous.”

My cock pulses hotly. “How would we do that?”

“I don’t know…” Slowly, she hooks a thigh around hip. Looking me in the eye, she grinds her pussy on my erection. Once, twice, three times. “We could dance sexier. Like this.”

There’s no keeping my hand off her delectable ass now. Not when she’s giving me friction, throwing open the gateway of my need, making me need more. Breathing hard, I check our surroundings to make sure no one is looking, then I grip her tight ass beneath her skirt, pulling, pushing, helping her hump me. “They’re definitely jealous now.”

“Yeah,” she says, her face beginning to flush with desire and exertion. “What else can we do to make them jealous, Daddy?”

“We’re already doing way too much.” I trace the split of her backside with my finger. Satisfied that no one can see what me hand is going, I tuck the pad of my middle finger against her asshole and rub in slow circles, timing them with the grind of our sexes. “You’re going to get me in trouble, little girl.”

“I’m not going to tell.” Her eyes are closed, almost as if she’s overcome by the euphoria of what we’re doing—and Jesus, so am I. My heart is slamming up against the insides of my rib cage, sweat is rolling down my spine. To say I’m turned on would be understating the facts. I’m burning alive for her. I’m horny in a sick, dirty way that makes a thick pulse pound in my balls. “I won’t tell no matter what we do,” she finishes. “Even if we kiss.”

“We can’t,” I growl.

But even as I say those words, I take both of her ass cheeks in my hands and knead them like dough, lifting her slightly off the ground when drag her pussy up and down my lap. It’s becoming painfully obvious that we can’t continue this game here on the main floor of the bar. This doesn’t end without me pounding her little cunt like a madman. But underneath the surface of the beauty pouting up at me, Grace is my wife and she’s still angry. If I push too far too soon, this intimate bubble could burst and that would kill me. Maybe even literally. My next breath seems to hinge on the forbidden friction of her pussy.

She pouts at me. “I want a kiss.” With a frustrated sound, I lean down and drop a quick kiss onto her soft lips, looking around quickly to make sure no one saw me. But she tugs on the ends of my hair, drawing my attention back. “Not like that…” she says. “Like this.”

When I drag her to a high point on my lap, she catches my mouth and God help me, I keep her positioned there, thighs parted around my hips in the middle of this crowded bar, my cock shamefully erect and wedged into the notch of her thighs. And then, oh Jesus, her tongue sweeps into my mouth and a rushing sound travels past my ears, my pulse turning erratic. I’ve kissed her millions of times in my life and I’ll kiss her a million more, but this time it’s beyond naughty. It’s illegal. It’s dangerous. But that can’t stop us.

Nothing can stop us now, because she tastes too good. Too mine. She’s young and fresh and innocent. A juicy, tempting piece of fruit from the Tree of Life. Her youth and curiosity and budding sexuality call to the provider in me, call on me to teach her. Before I can remind myself this is wrong, that once I go down this path with my little girl, I’ll never be able to turn back, I’m kissing her with a ravenous mouth. There’s no mistaking the carnality of what we’re doing and it doesn’t—it can’t—happen. But it is, nonetheless. My tongue is in her mouth and she’s writhing on my shaft like she instinctively knows it’s time for her first cock. Am I really going to give it to her? Am I really a man who does something like this?

“I feel ticklish, Daddy,” she says haltingly against my mouth. “What’s happening to me?”

I grit my teeth to keep from coming in my pants. “Whatever you’re feeling is natural. You just shouldn’t be feeling it with me.”

“I don’t want to feel like this with anyone else,” she returns quietly, looking up at me with those earnest blue eyes. “I’m safest with you.”

“Yes, you are.” I mold her hot, little ass in my hands. “Neither one of us will be safe if people find out about this. Especially…”

“Her?”

I grunt in affirmation, dropping my mouth to her temple. “I have to picture you in order to…perform. I picture myself down the hall on top of you, pushing your pink panties to the side and hurrying, hurrying to get a nut before we’re caught…”

By the time I finish speaking, Grace is panting. Her hands are fisted in the front of my shirt. This is her drug. This is a game we were born to play together, but we’ve only just reached the pinnacle and her reaction is breathtaking. “I…please. Please.”

She might be pretending I’m the man who raised her, but it’s her husband who knows what she needs. What she’s asking for. And I have no choice but to give it. Take it. We’re practically fucking right here in the middle of the dark bar, her hips beginning to roll hungrily, faster and faster. I need to get her somewhere to complete the game and give us the relief we’re desperate for. Now.

There is only one option for immediate privacy. I set Grace on her feet and guide her there now, my hand clamped around her wrist. There are two men in the bathroom when I pull her inside, but thankfully they’ve just finished zipping up. One look at my face and they move faster, hightailing it out of the restroom. Not a second passes after their departure until I spin Grace around to face the door. She’s whimpering as she presses her palms to the surface, my hands busy yanking up her flimsy skirt and shoving down her panties.

With her bare ass on display in the men’s room, I rake two hands down the beauty of it, separating her cheeks to get a look at her puckered hole, spitting on it. Growling into her neck while unzipping my jeans and drawing out my pulsing cock.

“You’re still grounded,” I grunt into her neck, kicking her ankles apart. Guiding my dick between her legs and shoving the tip home, making her wait several seconds, until she’s clawing at the door, before ramming the remainder of it home, my balls winging up to slap her drenched sex. And I don’t bother trying to trap her loud cry. No one can hear unless their ear is pressed up against the door—and I’m not sure I would give a shit right now, anyway, because fuck, she’s so tight. Such a tight little princess, dancing around in her high heels and whining about the size of me. Trying to wiggle me free of her cunt. But that’s not happening now. “Yeah, you heard me. You’re grounded. Straight home after school to give Daddy his due. I’m going to sit down to dinner smelling like wet young pussy.”

“She’s going to know,” Grace chokes out.

My left hand curls around her throat. “So be it. I’m tired of pretending you don’t make me stone-stiff every time you walk into the room.” I trail that hand down the front of her body, fingertips journeying over her hard nipples, until it ends up between her thighs. There, I tease her swollen clit slowly, eliciting a sob. Then faster and faster as I begin to thrust. I buck into her like a beast, pushing her up on tiptoes, her ass jiggling in my lap every time I hit home. “God help me, I’m going to need to pull over and fuck you again before we get home.”

Grace’s pussy squeezes, her hand slapping against the bathroom door and warm moisture floods down around the place where our sexes meet. After days of not experiencing the satisfaction of making her come, I’m almost dizzy with triumph. Relief. My body and my heart burn with gratitude, her juices making it easier to pump into her tight cunt. I go for broke now, razing my teeth up and down the side of her neck, slapping my cock home, my hands tightly gripping her hips now, yanking her back to meet my thrusts, snarling nasty shit into her ear, the kind of words that only belong in the bathroom of a bar. Not between a husband and a wife who worship one another. But she moans, loving them. Encouraging me.

“Look how bad you need dick, horny girl. Little fiend. Out in that short skirt, begging for this cock. Climbing all over me, fucking me through my jeans. You’re Daddy’s tight little brat, aren’t you? Are you my tight little brat?”

“Yes,” she wails through clenched teeth, the ripple of her sex telling me she’s coming again. Harder than she first time. Her thighs are quaking, her voice cracking.

“Look at you. Of course you’ve already popped off twice.” I reach for her hair and wrap it around my fist, tugging her head back until I can see her fevered eyes. “You’re used to getting this dick like clockwork, aren’t you, Gracie?” My heart climbs up into my throat, all pretenses drop, the game over. Over. All that’s left is my insanity. The agony of being without her. “My sweet…my sweet perfect wife, I miss you. I miss you so much, I’m losing my mind. Being away from you is fucking killing me.” I groan these words into her neck as I’m climaxing, my cock sunk to the hilt, my hips pinning her lower body to the door. Jesus. Jesus. Ejaculating inside of her is like being resurrected, my eyes rolling back in my head, jaw slack, balls pulling and jerking with the release of semen. This is home. She’s my home. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” I reach down between her legs and rub my fingers in our mingled fluids, painting the moisture all over her smooth pussy. “This is mine. Until the world ends. Until the sun goes black. This belongs to me. Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she whispers, still laboring to breathe.

The sharpest edges of my tension turn smooth at her agreement. There are more hurdles to get over, but she’s not denying that I own her body, thank Christ. That would have sent me over the edge. “We’re going through a rough patch right now, but we’re going to get through it, because we love each other in a way no one understands. No one has a love like this. No one but us. So you’re going to trust me. Do you understand? Trust in me, beauty. Remember who I am. Remember I live for you. And come to the fight on Friday.”

She turns her head, her dazed eyes locking on mine over her shoulder. Wariness creeps into them, but there’s adoration, too. There’s love, thank God. “I’ll be there.”

Pressure seeps out of my chest, our mouths meeting in a slow kiss, tongues reacquainting themselves, my dick hardening again where it remains tucked inside of her tightness. But there’s a loud banging on the door, voices on the other side. We’re occupying the only men’s bathroom in the bar and this isn’t the place for a classy girl like Gracie, anyway. I should be shot for fucking her in here, no matter how much she enjoyed it.

Reluctantly, I pull out, zipping my semi into my jeans, before drawing the panties back up her legs and covering her ass with that skirt. She turns from the door and reaches for a paper towel, no doubt to clean up the mess I made between her thighs, but I stay her wrist. “Leave my come where it belongs.”

Without giving her a chance to protest, I lead her back out into the bar, tucking her into my side when we receive several knowing looks. I deliver her back to Tanya’s side, kissing her on the forehead. It’s tearing me up to leave her there when all I want is to bring her home, sleep wrapped around her, inhaling my wife’s scent. But I can see she’s already trying to retreat from me. It’s right there in her stiff shoulders, her downcast eyes. And I know, I know nothing is going to be repaired between us until I show her, until she sees that I’m the same man she fell in love with. The same man she married. That, as always, everything I’ve done has been with her happiness in mind.

“Good night, Gracie,” I whisper, kissing her hair.

“Good night,” she breathes, looking like she wants to reach for me.

But she doesn’t.

So I turn to go, heart in a stranglehold, counting the seconds until Friday.