“Neither am I. Who cares?”
I continue to protest, self-consciousness twisting my insides at the idea of swimming in my underwear, showing that much skin. Winston has stopped listening to me, though. He’s too busy ripping off his clothes while striding purposefully toward the water.
Chapter 10
Winston
Natalie shoots me a puzzled frown when I step into the cool water of the lake with my underwear still on. Was she expecting me to swim in the nude? Is that what she wants? My cock twitches at the thought of her wanting to see me, wanting to touch me.
I can’t be sure that’s how she feels, and it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. What if I try to kiss her and she pushes me away? I don’t know how I’d be able to face her after that.
We shouldn’t be coming anywhere close to kissing, anyway. We are roommates, not lovers. Her stay here is temporary, and mine is eternal.
I’ve given up on using Susanna as an excuse as to why I should keep my hands to myself. In truth, she hated me when she was alive and probably wouldn’t have cared if I’d taken a lover during our marriage. She would’ve been relieved, in fact, to see my attention fall on someone other than her.
Something has shifted between us, though. I can feel it, and the way Natalie’s cheeks redden when I smile at her, she must feel it too. Whateverthisis, I must be patient until I know for sure that she returns my interest.
It was foolish of me to keep Ethel a secret from her. I convinced myself to wait for the perfect opportunity to reveal the truth, and that asking her to keep my existence and Ethel’s a secret from Lindsay on the same day would be asking too much.Wait a few days,I told myself. Then a few days turned into a week, and it got easier and easier to keep the lie hidden.
Today, when I heard Ethel’s violent shouts from the garden, I felt my world tilt on its axis. Natalie was in trouble, and if she were harmed, it would’ve been my fault. Just as Ethel’s death was. Seeing that she hadn’t been hurt, after calming Ethel down, I was so elated that I couldn’t keep myself from touching her. Holding her.
I never expected Natalie to feel the way she did in my arms:Perfect. Right.As if her voluptuous curves were sculpted to fit against me and me alone. It made me wonder if I’d ever truly felt desire before I met her. I had sexual partners before marrying Susanna, but those encounters were quick and clumsy, until I learned the proper way to pleasure a woman.
By the time I met Susanna, I was more confident. I knew what I was doing. I longed to learn her body like only a good husband could, but she kept me at a distance. She didn’t let me hold her often, but even in those moments, it felt different.
There was an innate wrongness with the way our bodies came together. Lovemaking was awkward, which can be expected in the beginning of a courtship, when you’re still discovering the way your partner moves and what they like, but we never emerged from that initial phase. Rhythm and harmony evaded us in every way they could. Our sex was for procreation alone, and there wasn’t a moment of rightness to it.
Natalie is the first woman I’ve held since Susanna, and I wasn’t expecting the power her touch has over me. Even just being near Natalie’s body, with her dimpled thighs and beautifully cushioned stomach, I feel like an inexperiencedteenage boy. My dick is constantly hard. I had to make a concentrated effort to angle my hips away from her while I held her to keep from coming in my pants.
Is this…how it’s supposed to feel? The way I hoped to feel with Susanna but never did?
I’m grateful for the cover of water the lake provides. I don’t go in deeper than the top of my stomach, and even that feels too shallow once Natalie starts removing her black leggings. The smirk she gives me is shy, as she says, “Turn around. I’m not used to people seeing me in my underwear.”
Jesus.
I turn around to give her privacy, but I have to tuck my cock into the waistband of my underwear to alleviate the throbbing ache that feels like it’s never going to fade. Why did I suggest going for a swim? This is going to be torture, regardless of the amount of Natalie’s bare skin I get to see. Whatever is hidden from my eyes, I’ll be fantasizing about for days to come. If I make it out of the lake without spilling in my underwear, it’ll be a fucking miracle.
“Ah, feels nice,” she says, her melodic voice now right behind me. “I haven’t gone swimming in ages.”
“Uh, may I turn around now?” I ask, scrubbing a hand down my face.
She chuckles. “You may.”
Natalie’s body is mere inches from mine. The water kisses her square chin as she stands in the lake, her hands outstretched on both sides, waving through the gentle ripples we’ve created. Her brassiere is white, and the fabric is threadbare. It doesn’t seem to offer much support, and the water has made it translucent.
Don’t look at her nipples.
Don’t think about her nipples.
“Such a spontaneous activity, Mr. Caraway,” she says, casting me a look of suspicion. “And you’re in such a pleasant mood. Where has this version of you been?”
I suppose that’s fair. I haven’t been the easiest or most pleasant to live with, nor was I trying to be. It felt safer to despise Natalie, to find reasons she’s impossible to share oxygen with. This isn’t a path I want to continue following, however. It’s getting harder to resist the voice in my head that tells me to seek her out, to close the distance between us, and to acknowledge what a lucky bastard I am to merely be in her orbit. Getting to know each other should be the first step in improving our relationship as roommates.
“My last name isn’t Caraway,” I tell her.
Her eyebrow lifts. “No? But the sign on the house–”
“My wife, Susanna, it’s her maiden name. Her father put that sign up. He was proud of their ancestral line, or rather, their obscene wealth, and he once told me that ‘Duffy’ is a common laborer’s name that shouldn’t be displayed anywhere.”
