Firmly, he guided her to the bedroom and shut the door, leaving the two dogs outside.
“Say you want to make love to me, Brian.”
She needed to hear him, so he said it. “I want to make love to you, Cait.”
And so he did, and it confused him why she needed to hear what she should have known all along. If there was a thing called love, and if it actually existed between two people, the way he thought he had with Alana, then he did love Cait—logically.
He just couldn’t feel it the way Connor, Larry, or any normal man felt.
Sex with his wife, that felt really, really good, and by the way he made her moan and gasp and scream, it was really, really good for her, too.
Except, she deserved a normal man, one who brought her flowers and said icky things about love and forever. Seeing someone who reminded him of her bent double kissing another man told him she wanted way, way more than he could ever give.
The ability to say those words, “I love you, Cait.”
