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Authors: Melanie Moreland

The Contract (29 page)

BOOK: The Contract
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I paced the living room and kitchen, restlessly prowling the floor, sipping my wine. I knew I could go and work out to relieve some of my tension, except I wasn’t in the mood. Somehow, the gym seemed too far away from Katharine, and in case she needed me, I wanted to be close.

I sat down on the sofa, and the plump cushion beside me made me smile. Another one of Katharine’s touches. Silky blankets, downy pillows, warm colors on the walls and the artwork she had added, made the condo feel like home. I paused as I lifted my glass. Had I ever told her I liked what she did?

With a groan, I drained my wine, setting down the glass on the table. Bending forward, I clutched my hair, tugging on it until it was painful. I had improved over the past weeks, of that I was certain, but had I changed enough? I knew my tongue wasn’t as sharp. I knew I’d been a better person. Even so, I wasn’t sure if it was sufficient. If she was struggling, did she trust me enough to turn to me?

I was shocked to realize how much I wanted that. I wanted to be her rock. To be the person she could depend on. I knew I had come to rely on her—for many things in my life.

Giving up, I snapped off the lights and went to my room. I changed into my sleep pants and walked over to the bed, hesitating, then left my room. I went to her door, not surprised to see it partially open. How my “night noises,” as she politely called them, brought her comfort, I didn’t understand, but ever since the day she admitted needing them, I never shut it at night.

For a moment, I felt odd standing outside her door, unsure why I was there. Until I heard it. The sound of muffled weeping. Without another thought, I slipped in her room. Her blind was open, the moonlight spilling in her window. She was curled in a ball, crying. Her body shook so hard with the force of her sobs, I could see the bed moving. Lifting the blanket, I slipped my arms around her, holding her close and carrying her to my room. Cradling her, I lowered us to the bed, tucking the covers around us. She stiffened, but I held her tight.

“Let it out, Katharine. You’ll feel better, sweetheart.”

She melted into me, her body molded to mine. Her hands clutched at my bare shoulders, her tears hot on my skin as she wept uncontrollably. I stroked my hand over her back, my fingers through her hair, and made, what I hoped were, comforting noises. Despite the reason, I liked having her close. I missed her softness melded to my hardness. She fit to me so well.

Eventually, her sobs began to taper, the terrible shudders easing from her frame. I leaned over, grabbing some tissues and pressing a bunch into her hand.

“I–I’m s–sorry,” she stuttered in a whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

“I disturbed you.”

“No, you didn’t. I want to help you. I keep telling you—anything you need, all you have to do is ask.” I hesitated. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to help you.”

“You’ve been so nice. Kind, even.”

I winced a little at the shock in her voice. I knew I deserved it, but I still didn’t like it.

“I’m trying to be better.”

She shifted a little, tilting up her head to study me. “Why?”

“You deserve it, and you just lost someone you love. You’re grieving. I want to help you. I don’t know how, though. I’m new to all of this, Katy.” Using my thumb, I gently wiped away the fresh tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

“You called me Katy.”

“I guess it rubbed off. Penny called you that all the time. So does everyone else.”

“She liked you.”

My throat felt strangely thick as I studied her face in the pale light from the window. “I liked her,” I stated, quiet but honest. “She was a wonderful woman.”

“I know.”

“I know you’ll miss her, sweetheart, but . . .” I didn’t want to say the same platitudes I’d heard uttered to her over the past few days. “She would have hated being a burden to you.”

“She wasn’t!”

“She would have argued with you. You worked hard to make her feel safe. You sacrificed so much.”

“She did the same for me. She always put me first.” She shuddered. “I–I don’t know where I’d be today if it hadn’t been for her finding me and taking me in.”

I didn’t want to think about that either. Penny’s actions had affected both our lives—for the better.

“She did it because she loved you.”

“I loved her.”

“I know.” I cupped her face, staring into her pain-filled eyes. “You loved her so much you married a total asshole who treated you like shit so you could make sure she was looked after properly
.”

“You stopped being a total asshole a few weeks ago.”

I shook my head. “I should never have been an asshole to you at all.” To my shock, I felt tears gather in my eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You miss her, too.”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

She pulled me down, my head resting in the crook of her neck. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried—most likely when I was a child—but I cried now. I cried for the loss of a woman I only knew for a brief time, yet came to mean so much to me. Who, with her stories and fractured memories, brought to life the woman I was married to—her words showed me Katy’s goodness and light.

She and Katy showed me it was okay to feel, to trust . . . and to love.

Because, in that one moment, I knew I was in love with my wife.

I yanked Katy to me, holding her tight. When my tears dried, I lifted my head, meeting her gentle gaze. The air between us changed from one of comfort and care to something charged and alive.

The lust and longing I had denied myself ignited. My body burned for the woman I was holding, and Katy’s eyes widened, the same desire flaring in their vivid blue color.

Giving her the chance to say no, I lowered my head, pausing over her quivering lips.

“Please?” I whispered, not certain what I was asking.

Her feather-soft whimper was all I needed, and my mouth met hers with a hunger I had never experienced.

It wasn’t only lust and desire. It was need and longing. It was redemption and forgiveness. All of it wrapped up in one tiny woman.

It was like being reborn in a fiery burst of flames that licked and snapped at my spine. Every single nerve hummed in my body. I could feel every inch of her pressed to me; every curve fit to me as if she were made for me and me alone. Her tongue was like velvet against mine, her breath like gusts of pure life filling my lungs. I couldn’t get close enough. I couldn’t kiss her deep enough. Her ridiculous nightshirt vanished under my fists, the material ripping easily. I had to touch her skin. I needed to feel all of her. Using her feet, she pushed down my pants; my erection released, trapped between us. We both groaned as our skin met. Soft, smooth skin, rubbed my rougher, harder body.

She was like cream—fluid and sweet, wrapping around me. Using my hands and tongue, I discovered her everywhere. The dips and hollows hidden from the world were now mine to explore. I feasted on her taste, each discovery new and exotic. Her breasts were full and lush in my hands, her nipples pert and sensitive. She moaned as I tongued them to stiff peaks, tugging on them gently with my teeth. She squirmed and whimpered as I drifted lower, swirling my tongue on her stomach, down to her tiny belly button, and beyond, until I found her, wet and ready for me.

“Richard,” she gasped. The word was static and frantic as I closed my mouth around her and tasted her sweetness. Her body bowed, arching and stretching as I explored, using my tongue to delve and tease. She buried her hand in my hair, pushing me closer and tugging me back as I built a rhythm. Her moans and whimpers were like music to my ears. I slid a finger, then two, inside, stroking her deeply.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” I moaned into her heat.

“I’ve . . . I’ve never been with a man.”

I stilled, lifted my head, her words sinking in. She was a virgin. I needed to remember that, to be gentle with her and treat her with respect. That she would bestow that gift to me, of all people, made me ache with emotions I couldn’t identify. I shouldn’t be surprised, yet, as always, she continued to confound me.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“Katy—”

“I want this, Richard, with you. I want you.”

I crawled up her body, cradling her head; kissing her mouth with a reverence I had never felt or shown another person. “Are you sure?”

She drew me back to her mouth. “Yes.”

I moved over her carefully; I wanted to make her first time memorable. To show her with my body what I was experiencing with my soul.

To make her mine in every sense of the word.

I worshipped her with my touch, keeping it light and gentle, her skin like silk under my hands. Loving her with my mouth, I learned every part of her in the most intimate ways, memorizing her taste and the feel of her. I stroked her passion with my own until she was pleading for me.

I groaned and hissed as she became bolder, touching and discovering me with her teasing lips and tender hands. Her name fell like a prayer from my mouth as her fingers stroked my shoulders, down my spine, then encased my cock. Finally, I hovered over her, covering her with my body, sinking deep into her tight warmth, holding her until she begged me to move, and then, and only then, did I let my passion fly. I thrust powerfully, driving into her over and again. I kissed her hard as I took her, needing her taste in my mouth as much as I needed her body wrapped around me. Katy held me tight, groaning my name, her fingers digging into my back as she grasped me hard.

“Oh, God, Richard,
please
. Oh, I need . . .”

“Tell me,” I urged. “Tell me what you need.”

“You . . .
more
. . . please!”

“I’ve got you, baby.” I moaned, pushing her leg higher and sinking deeper. “Only me. You’re only ever going to have me.”

She cried out, her head flung back, body tensing. She was beautiful in her release, her neck stretched taut, a slight sheen of sweat on her skin. My own orgasm flickered, and I buried my face in Katy’s neck as the force of my pleasure rocked my world. I turned my head, grabbed her chin, bringing her mouth to mine, kissing her as the shockwaves rippled then calmed in my body. I rolled, tugging her to my chest, nuzzling her hair. She sighed, burrowing close.

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

“Trust me, sweetheart. The pleasure was all mine.”

“Well, not
all
yours.”

I chuckled against her head, pressing a kiss to her warm skin.

“Sleep, Katy.”

“I should go—”

I tightened my arms, not wanting her to leave. “No. Stay here with me.”

She sighed, her body giving a long, slow shudder.

“Front or back?” I murmured. She liked to sleep with her back pressed to my chest. I liked waking up with my face buried in her warm neck and her body connected to mine.

“Back.”

“Okay.” I loosened my arms so she could roll over. Bringing her back to me, I kissed her gently. “Go to sleep. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“I—”

“Tomorrow. We’ll figure out the next step tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

I shut my eyes, breathing her in. Tomorrow I would tell her everything. Ask her to tell me what she was thinking. I wanted to tell her what I was feeling—that I was in love with her. Clear the air for both of us. Then help her move her things into my room, making it
our
room.

I didn’t want to be without her beside me again.

With a sigh of contentment I didn’t think I’d ever experience, I fell asleep.

I woke up alone, my hand on cold, empty sheets. I wasn’t surprised—Katy had been more restless than usual the past few nights, and even more so last night. More than once I had pulled her back to me, feeling the sobs she was trying to hide. I had held her, letting her emotions drain from her body.

I ran a hand over my face and sat up. I would have a shower, then find her in the kitchen. I had to talk to her. There was so much to clear up—a great many things I needed to apologize for, so we could move forward—together.

I swung my legs off the bed, grabbed my robe, and stood up. I began walking to the bathroom and stopped. My bedroom door was shut tight. Why was it closed? Was Katy worried about disturbing me? I shook my head. She was one of the quietest people I knew, especially in the morning.

I crossed the room and opened the door. Silence greeted me. No music or any sounds from the kitchen met my ears. I glanced over toward Katy’s room. Her door was standing ajar, but there were no sounds from her room, either. Something in my stomach tightened, and I couldn’t shake it off. Crossing the hall, I looked inside. The bed was made, the room tidy and spotless. It felt empty.

I headed to the stairs, taking them two at a time, making a beeline for the kitchen, calling for Katy. She didn’t respond, and the room was deserted.

I stood, panicked. She must have gone out—maybe to the store. There were several reasons for her to have left the condo. I hurried to the entryway. Her car keys were on the hook.

She must have gone for a walk
, I told myself.

I headed back to the kitchen toward the coffee maker. She had shown me how to use it, so at least I could make a pot of coffee. It was misty out, the clouds low and dark. She’d need the heat of a hot drink when she returned.

BOOK: The Contract
10.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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