She sat up and muttered the one word guaranteed to make me stop. “Red.”
Immediately, my hands fell to the arms of the chair, and I sat back.
Instead of pulling away as I expected, she remained perched on my legs, folding her hands primly over her lap with a small smile. “Good to know that works.”
Her nonchalance irked the dominant in me. “Of course it works,” I ground out. “It’s not a word I take lightly. So, please don’t use it as a joke.”
She studied me, taking in my pinched brows, and her smile dropped. I kept hold of the arms of the chair and let her look—let her take in my sincerity. “I’m not,” she said finally, dropping her gaze and standing with a heavy sigh.
I missed the heat and weight of her against me. And when she ran her hands through her hair, I struggled not to pull her back and soothe the lines pulling at her forehead.
“I’m tired,” she confessed. “And as easily as you thought the conversation with my father would go, it didn’t. I don’t lie to him, and it feels wrong to do it now. Add in all the final prep for the gala this weekend, and I’m just fucking tired.”
Her shoulders dropped as if the lie and her to-do list were physical weights pulling her down. Again, I fought the urge to tug her to me, but that wasn’t our relationship. I offered her relief through release, and she shut down the idea of playing tonight. Yet, my chest pinched at the thought of sending her off like this. A sharp pang that came too close to resembling the desire to be more for her—the desire to have a relationship I used to crave. One where my wife would lean on me. One where I was her anchor, and I would do anything to help her through whatever storm plagued her.
This feeling is not the same as it used to be,I assured myself. It couldn’t be.
It wasn’t.
No matter how much I tried to shove the ache aside, it wouldn’t fade. Frustrated with my lack of control over my own body, I decided on a different tactic. One that would appease this useless need to offer comfort and stay within the boundaries of our relationship. One that would possibly mend the gap created by our argument last night. One that would give her an example of what I meant when I’d asked for a real marriage. Not one of love, but one that included a partnership. And partners were allowed to offer at least a little comfort. It didn’t mean anything beyond making her more comfortable, which would make my life easier.
Satisfied with my rationale, I released my grip and softened my gaze. “I’m sorry your day was so long. I should’ve come to the office with you just in case your father showed up early, as he did.”
“No,” she answered easily. “It was easier to lie without the added stress of also having to put on a show with you.”
If my softer tone and apology threw her off, she didn’t comment as she had earlier when I asked her about her day. Pleased with her reaction—or lack of one—I decided to follow her lead and keep the easy conversation going. I even added a smile and a teasing tone. “You’ll have to show off with me soon enough.”
Her eyes narrowed as she tipped her head in question.
“The gala,” I reminded her, waggling my brows. “I assumed I would be your date.”
She laughed softly, her pinched features softening with one of her infamous eye rolls. With her arms crossed, she stared me down with a cocked brow. “Oh? Will you arrive early to take pictures and bring me a corsage?”
I snorted at the image she painted of us acting like some high school kids before a dance. “Hardly. However, I can definitely make sure we both have plenty of time before the event forsome…stress relief,” I suggested, dragging my gaze up and down her curves.
It was her turn to snort, but I wasn’t joking. My playful smirk earned me another eye roll. This one less annoyed than the last and more of an attempt to distract me from the faint pink blooming in her cheeks.
Taking advantage of our softened moods, I broached another subject that would require us toput on a show, as she put it. “Also, I would like to introduce you to my godparents. Possibly this Sunday for dinner?”
She hesitated, her lips pursed, and I held my breath, waiting for her to postpone fulfilling her end of our bargain. On instinct, tension coiled up my spine, bracing to argue, but was saved when she looked away with a sigh and licked her lips before bringing her attention back to me. She was nervous. The sight of brave, bold Aspen expressing nerves released my fight response, leaving room to listen to a part of my mind that whispered to be patient.
“I guess Sunday would work.” She lifted her chin as if the nerves never existed.
I took a moment to soak up the stunning view of her pulling herself back together with beautiful strength. I enjoyed the powerful woman before me. Her strength made her submission all the more exquisite. My cock twitched, and I forced the thought aside. She’d used her safe word for the night. Respecting her decision, I focused back on the conversation. “I promise you, they’re very nice.”
“Good. But I’ll have to worry about that once I get through Saturday.” She shook her head. “Speaking of, I have some extra emails to get to and contracts to finalize. But first, a shower to perk up.”
“How about a bath?” I offered, circling back to my determination to provide her comfort.As a partner.Nothingelse,I reminded myself. “There is a tray for the bathtub that you can set your laptop on. I’ll even bring you a glass of wine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a nice offer,” she said slowly.
“I can be very nice.”
Her brow arched with doubt, and I shrugged, unwilling to hear myself explain the need to make her night more comfortable out loud.
“I’ll take the wine now and save you a trip.” She grabbed my glass and the bottle from the table, unrepentant about finishingmydrink. “There’s no reason for you to come up while I’m wet and naked.”
“Oh, I can think of many,manyreasons,” I said, my voice dripping with promise.
