Four days since my entire world fell apart.
"In," Adrian says again. Calm. Steady. "Out."
I follow his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly. So slowly. My chest loosens.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Just breathe. I've got you."
"I'm not okay." Tears are sliding down my cheeks now. "Nothing is okay."
"I know."
"My brother is a criminal. People died yesterday. I'm pregnant and married to a man I barely know, and everything is falling apart and I—I can't?—"
He kisses me.
It's not gentle. Not tentative.
It's desperate. Claiming. Like he's trying to ground me. Ground us both.
And I kiss him back just as desperately.
Because he's right. I'm trying to run away from what I'm feeling.
But maybe running isn't such a bad thing right now.
His hands slide into my hair. Angling my head. Deepening the kiss until I can't think about anything except the taste of him. The feel of him.
"Adrian," I gasp against his mouth.
"I'll take care of you," he says. "Let me."
That pulsing between my legs intensifies. It never went away.
I want him, and I want him to take me.
"Make me forget," I say.
He lifts me off the bar stool. I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the couch. Sets me down gently.
Then he's kneeling in front of me.
"What are you?—"
"I'm your husband." His hands slide up my thighs. "I'm taking care of you."
His words make me gush, and my breath picks up.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my yoga pants. Pulls them down slowly. Taking my underwear with them.
Then he spreads my legs.
I should feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Instead, I feel wanted.
"So beautiful," he murmurs. His breath ghosts across sensitive skin. "My wife."
