Sky Blue Sheets
That night, Leo expected to have dinner on his own, and his expectations were met. Prim needed some time after their argument, and he was going to allow it. He went to his study, not knowing what to do with himself now that the anger retreated and something more dull had taken its place. He was in no state of mind to have any work done, so he merely nursed a whiskey, looking at the flames of the fireplace.
How long ago was that night when she barged into his office, demanding an explanation for his behavior? He glanced at the door longingly. Perhaps without realizing it, he was waiting for her to do the same again. For her to be the one to make the first move so they could reconcile. The one to help him frame his emotions in a way other people would understand.
But perhaps there was a quota of how many times a woman can barge into a gentleman’s study unannounced, and Prim hadused the available courage. Now he felt adrift, alone in the ocean post-argument coldness.
Late at night, he finally decided to go to his room and rest. He changed clothes himself and sat at the edge of his empty big bed. He looked down at the pillows. They were that night sky blue that made her hair shine like gold once spilled on them.
Leo looked at the door that separated his chambers and hers. He could go over and he could apologiz. After all, he had indeed raised his voice and that was bad manners on his part. The least he could do was acknowledge that and give her time to reprimand him for this. He stared at that door for a while before he decided that his need was greater than his pride.
Shirtless as he was, his silk robe loosely hanging from his shoulders, he softly opened the door that separated them. The room was dark except for the fireplace, and in the light of the flames dancing, he saw her frame under the covers. She was with her back turned away from him as if she was avoiding his general direction even in her sleep.
Leo went to the bed and climbed on it, on the side next to hers that was that was there empty as if waiting for him. He felt the heat of her body, and somehow his soul settled. He pulled closer, so close that not even air could pass between their two bodies. He found her exposed shoulder and kissed lightly.
“Are you asleep?” he asked.
She didn't answer,r but Leo could tell that she was awake. He was by now familiar with her body and its reactions. He left another peck on her shoulder and very softly bit down on the sensitive skin.
He was craving for connection, to have that bitter taste that their argument left removed by her sweetness. His hands moved on their own, seeking the familiar curves of her body. Leo was careful and soft. Deep down, he knew that this was an apology, the only one that he could give, the one that he prayed she would accept.
“Look at me, please,” He said.
She rolled over to face him, the red of the flames in her back hiding her features. He couldn’t see much in this light except that she was awake. He couldn’t decipher her look, or her mood, or her thoughts. But he knew her well enough to realize that he had been unfair, and that Prim’s pride was hurt.
“I am sorry, Prim,” he said in the dark of the night. “For raising my voice.”
She said nothing, made no move to touch him, while she usually was the first to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Despite the fire burning and the warm covers, he felt cold, and there was only one thing that could make him feel better. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself that Prim was his, still his.
He pulled closer, draped his arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. If she was going to fight him off or ask him to leave, he would stop, of course. But she didn’t.
Leo smiled as he felt her body flush against his. He leaned in, her head was now on his pillow, and she was on his side of the bed. He moved them, and Prim was on her back, his body over hers.
The coldness he felt melted away. A soft voice in his mind repeated that it was just a disagreement. That he might have lost control, yet it was just a fight. A kiss, a touch exactly how he knew she liked it, and everything would melt away, all problems would be solved, and all bad things would be forgotten. So, Leo kissed her neck exactly at the spot that she knew she liked so much, which made the little hair on her body rise in attention.
He pushed up between her legs to throw away his robe, and then fell again on his elbows, kissing her neck, taking her earlobe in his mouth. Desire rose and in him, unstoppable like a wildfire. His hand found the deep of her waist, he left open-mouthed kisses right behind her ear, circling that spot that made her moan and tighten her body around his.
Only then did he realize. Her head was turned away when she usually studied him, drinking in the desire on his face. Her hands that were always exploring his body, every inch that they could reach, now lay limp on her sheets. Her body that was always seeking his was now stiff under him.
Leo went still. He was seeking fire, her fire, and all he found was marble, a temple of silence, cold and withdrawn. Even worse, it felt as if he had found the tomb of her affection.
“Prim?”
She didn't respond, her body still under his, no move to push him away, and her lips remained sealed,d not even a word, an insult, a scathing comment. Now that his eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness, he could see her looking out the window on the other side of the bed. Her look was serene and emotionless. There was no anger in her eyes, no passion, no sorrow.
“Prim, look at me!”
Very slowly, as if this action cost her a lot, she turned and met his gaze. He expected all the things that he knew were hers, her fiery passion, her sizzling wit, even her furious anger. All he saw was polite resignation. Prim, his Prim, was looking at him with a weary distance, as if waiting for an obligation to be over so she could sleep.
The realization hit him as if he was dipped in a cold lake, his limbs cold, his body slightly shaking. Leo saw in her eyes that he had broken much more than a simple kiss could fix.
He cupped her chin and leaned in. He just needed to make sure. This was not his Prim, not the way she looked at him, how she teased him, how she chastised him. He would prefer it if she screamed at him, did that thing that she does, raisingher eyebrow, and he knew that he would have to comply with anything coming out of her mouth after that. But all he got was nothing.
“You’re looking at me,” he whispered, the horror dawning in his own voice, “like I’m a stranger.”
For a moment, she said nothing, and he hoped that there would be a spark, something that he could turn into a fire. Instead, she kept that even, calm face and talked in a quiet, flat tone.
“No,” she corrected softly. “I am looking at my husband.”
