Now, I’m waiting in the living room of our home for my wife to complete dressing, so I can escort her to my grandfather’s New Year’s Eve party.
It’s been half an hour since I came down and poured myself a drink to calm my nerves. Ridiculous. I have nothing to be apprehensive about. Yes, I’m living in a kind of fugue state, where I’m overcome with feelings for my wife, but I’m still in control.I am.
Why then, do my thoughts feel strident?
I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m trying to convince myself. I run my fingers over the slender platinum strip in my pocket. It doesn’t mean anything that I plan to give this to her today.
Then I hear her footsteps on the stairs. I turn and stare at the vision descending the steps.
She wears a silver dress made of a soft material which seems topour over her curves. It flows to her ankles, wraps over her arms up to her wrists and ends in a high neckline, which lends a demureness to her figure.
One promptly destroyed by the flash of thigh revealed by the slit that runs up one side. She’s the perfect blend of wife and whore. It’s why I've fallen for her. She satisfies my urges. Lights up my lust. Challenges me and leaves me wanting more. I’ve never felt as strongly pulled toward another person as I am to her.
Her thick hair is pulled up, with tendrils floating around her features. Her makeup is light, except for the slash of red lipstick and the winged eyeliner which turns her green eyes into pools of water at the base of rapids. Red-tipped toes peep out from her heels. Then she reaches the bottom of the stairs and glides toward me.
The thrust of her breasts is hypnotizing, as is the cinch of the dress at her waist, and the flare of her hips which highlights her hourglass figure. I place my glass down on the bar counter, and when she reaches me, I can’t stop myself from scanning her features. "You look beautiful."
She flushes slightly. The flutter of her eyelashes tells me she’s pleased with my compliment.
"Turn around," I order.
She frowns, then does as I ask.
"Good girl." I run my knuckles down her spine. As much as her dress is modest from the front, it’s wicked from the back. The neckline plunges almost to the cleavage between her butt cheeks. Goosebumps erupt across the expanse. Her responsiveness never fails to please me.
I pull out the thin chain with braided links and settle it around her neck. I fasten it, then turn her around to look at the overall effect.
"Beautiful," I whisper.
She runs her fingers over the textured pattern. “This feels like a rope.”
“It is.” I look into her eyes. “I had it made right after I met you.”
Her eyes grow wide. “After the first time you met me?”
I nod slowly. “I didn’t think I’d give it to you. I wasn’t sure why Idecided to have it made… Except maybe, subconsciously…I didknow.”
She swallows. Hope flickers across her face. But then she banks it. And there’s wariness instead.
I hate that I’m the one responsible for that. I’m responsible for making her doubt how I feel toward her. But I hope my actions will put to rest her apprehension.
“I think I was falling for you, even then. I didn’t want to admit it. Arthur picking you as the woman I should marry cemented it further. Then you took on those sharks in the boardroom. Went toe-to-toe with me about the Christmas decorations, until you got your way. You brought light back into my life. For the first time, I looked forward to going to work, because you’d be there.
“When I proposed the marriage arrangement, I told myself it was practical, that it would help us both. But deep down, I knew the truth. I wanted to keep you close.”
Her features soften.
“I saw you walking down the aisle, and it hit me. Everything I’d ever wanted was right there in front of me. And I was afraid of losing it. Making love to you felt like coming home. It was…too much, too fast. I needed time to make sense of it.”
I take a few breaths and find my composure.
“But when that helicopter hit turbulence, all I could think was—I’d die before I let anything happen to you. And that I had to tell you what you meant to me.”
She searches my features. “So why didn’t you tell me right away?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Because you were right all along. I am a fucking coward. It took me a little while to get my thoughts in order. And then I knew I had to do something more… Something that would make what I told you special.”
A look of comprehension dawns on her face. She touches the chain around her neck. “Is this?—”
