CHAPTER 31
Elena
The tension in the air’s so thick you could cut it with a butter knife as we get ready for bed. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Goodgoddo I want this man’s body, but I can’t bring myself to say the words, to tell him what he wants to hear.
Maximo seems frustrated, but not angry. I just need a little more time to sort through this tangle in my head and in my heart. I won’t allow lust to cloud my decision-making.
Dressed in a short, soft nightgown, I snuggle under the covers, but I can’t relax. Every fiber of my being tracks Maximo’s movements around the cottage. He snuffs the candles, then he’s in the bathroom doing his nightly routine. The fairy lights flick off. I swallow my gasp when he slips into bed behind me.
The bed’s large, but he still manages to take up most of the space. His heat sinks beneath my skin, warm and inviting, as he lies on his back. I peek at him over my shoulder. He’s staring at the ceiling, head propped on one arm. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Is having regrets? Or does he plan to stubbornly wait me out. I’d take a bet on the latter. Maximo doesn’t back down. Ever. I’ve never met a more bullheaded person.
Though his apology earlier was sweet, and I believe he meant it, we can’t just sweep everything under the rug and start fresh. Can we? No, life doesn’t work that way. There are always, eventually, consequences for your actions.
I understand what he wants during our honeymoon, and I will give him a chance to prove himself. But until he has, I’m not going to spread my legs for him and pretend that everything’s fine.
He’s set the stage, but will he really be content to read for hours on end? To sit in silence with me? To let me enjoy all of this on my own terms? Only time will tell.
His breathing evens out, telling me he’s dozed off. So I gradually relax on my side, mere inches from his body, and let sleep claim me.
Tonight my nightmares leave me alone.
CHAPTER 32
Maximo
We spend our days and half the nights curled up reading by the fire, or bundled up on the deck as the lake laps at the shore. It’s quiet out here, far away from the bustle of the city and our daily lives. Even though tension lingers between us, the peaceful setting and escapism does exactly what I hoped. Elena gradually relaxes until she seems almost happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her anyway.
Her shoulders relax, she smiles more often, and she’s sleeping through the night. Not once has she seemed to be plagued by bad dreams.
The other half of the nights, once we put our books away, we sleep in the bed together. Only sleep. I’m giving her space to decide what she wants. While I may have forced her to marry me, I will never force myself on her sexually. If she wants me to fuck her, she’s going to have to say so, with her body and, more importantly, her words.
As restrained as we are when we go to bed each night, we wake up every morning tangled in each other. My hard cock either pressed to her core or nestled against that luscious ass.
It’s hell. Torture. Everything I deserve for forcing her to be mine.
At the same time, there’s this delicate connection growing between us through reading books. Sometimes I even catch her watching me with interest. Of course, she quickly glances away. I’m curious about what she sees.
We spend hours reading in silence, and have recently started discussing our books over dinner. Perhaps this is the way to my wife’s heart. It does seem to make her happy.
“How did your story progress today?” I ask as I sit across from her at the small round table, sipping wine.
“Well, I finished the book I started yesterday and started the next one in the series. It’s so, so good. I’m going to be up until dawn because every time I think there can’t possibly be any more surprises, another one gets thrown in the mix.” She wistfully sighs. “I wish I could write like that. Maybe I’ll be that good one day, if I keep working at it.”
I hide a smile behind my wineglass. She’s already that good, she just doesn’t realize it yet. I’ve finished reading everything she’s published and I’m suffering on the edge of that last cliffhanger. This morning, I realized if I want to know the rest of the story, I need her to finish writing it. But in order for that to happen…
“How about you?” she asks. “What did you read today?”
“I decided to switch back to my favorite author. The book I started wasn’t holding my attention the same way she does.”
She perks up. “Youhave a favorite author?”
“I do. It’s a relatively recent discovery.”
“Who is it? I’m always looking for recommendations.”
I hold her steady gaze. “It’s you,cara mia.”
“Me?” She frowns. “What do you mean? I’ve only ever published on the app that doesn’t exist any more. So…”
