"That's it," his voice is pure gravel in my ear, "Let me feel you come on my cock, baby. Can't start my day without taking care of my best girl..."
"Atlas!" The shower running mutes the sound of me calling his name when I come, so we don't wake up the boys.
Atlas wraps his arm around my waist to keep me steady.
"That fucking sound," he groans out into my neck, biting softly on the skin there.
When I stop trembling, he gently pulls out of me and spins me to cup my face, "I love you, baby."
"I love you," I whisper against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.
I flinch at the memory that invades my brain without permission.
Atlas was home earlier last month, and as we were getting ready for bed, I tried to go down on him. He pushed my hand away and said he was tired, barely even glancing at me.
I've even gotten so desperate that I walk naked in our bedroom to entice him, and to remind myself that I have a nice body, even after two kids.
I’ve always been tall, around five-foot-nine, and from being pregnant so young, my metabolism allowed me to shed baby weight fast. Despite my abdomen having some loose skin and stretch marks on my belly, breasts, and hips, I think I still look good.
I just… wanted to remind myself that, at one time, he used to desire me more than anything.
Atlas didn’t even look up at me.
To add to my humiliation, I’m wearing a new lacy lingerie set in a soft pink under my clothes. Atlas always said he liked me in pink, that I looked so sweet and girly in the color.
In this set that I had felt so sexy in earlier, I just feel stupid.
I should probably just face the fact that I'm no longer attractive to my husband. He’s only ever been with me, so maybe he’s bored and wants variety.
I don't even want to think about him withsomeone else.
They did hire that new front desk girl, Audrey or Aubrey. She’s young, pretty, and bubbly.
Is that it? Has he found someone else? Is that why he’s not interested in sex or even intimacy?
For me, it’s always been Atlas, always would be Atlas. No one has ever compared, no one has ever seen me the way he has. He’s my best friend and I used to think that I was so lucky that I could say that and mean it.
I married my best friend and he gave me two beautiful boys.
Liam is my moody teenager, almost fourteen years old. He loves playing basketball, and hanging out with his grandfather Emmett—his hero. Those two watch whatever game is on, shoot hoops in the driveway, play cards, and talk about everything and nothing. I love the bond Liam shares with his grandfather.
Noah is my sweet boy, eight years old, and always spoiled by his grandmother with new paints or colored pencils. He's an incredible artist and I always cherish every piece he brings home.
Diane and Emmett can sense that something is going on, but I don't even know how to broach it with them. Not without feeling like a failure.
Also, I don't want to add even more to their plate. Not after their focus has been on Silas after Carrie's sudden death last September.
Her passing really destroyed Silas, mainly because he was deployed at the time. Thankfully, he seems to be doing better now. He's been discharged from the military and it’s given him more time to be with his daughters, Molly and Jem.
We all truly loved Carrie and miss her dearly. Atlas was his brother’s rock in the storm, while Diane and Emmett handled the funeral arrangements for Carrie’s devastated parents.
I primarily took care of all four kids, my nieces clinging to me while my boys did everything they could to comfort them.
The month following the funeral, Atlas was a little more clingy with me and the kids, but I think we all were.
The night we buried Carrie, he made love to me slowly and reverently. I remember feeling so connected to him, so grateful and in love while we whispered our devotion to each other.
I can't even seem to pinpoint the moment he started pulling away from us.
