She laughs suddenly, a harsh sound. “Ha, ha, look at you getting your panties in a twist. Relax, I was only kidding. Good work, actually. I like people who take the initiative," she continues, her tone approving. "You may carry on, but don’t forget it’s just a temporary fuck, but with any luck, by the time you leave, you'll have prepared the way for me to make an easy comeback."
I’m speechless with shock, but apparently, she is pleased that I am sleeping with her husband. “So what’s going on with the brat that was so urgent?”
“Er… It’s okay. I solved the problem. She wanted to go on a sleepover, and I just didn’t know which family would be suitable, and it was short notice, but she went to Li?—”
“So, it’s solved,” she interrupts in a bored voice.
“Yes. It’s solved.”
“Good. Call me if anything else crops up that you can’t handle.” The call ends abruptly, leaving me staring at the phone in complete shock.
To start with, the idea of Carolyn watching me sleeping gives me the creeps. A cold spider-like sensation crawls up my spine as I imagine her lurking in the shadows, peering through the windows downstairs, or coming right up to the bed and standing over Blake and I while we are asleep and unaware. Her eyes on our entwined bodies—Blake's arm around me, my head on his chest—like some voyeur of her own life. Being observed like that is violating and invasive, and it makes my stomach churn with unease. The prickling sensation is a warning. Carolyn is… dangerous. I’ve been a little fool. Behaving as if this whole thing is a great adventure, or something that could be fun and games. There is no happy ending for me here.
Her words haunt me.Don’t forget it’s a temporary fuck.
Giving Blake back to her bothers me far more than I care to admit. A deep ache blooms in my chest at the thought of stepping aside and letting her return to his arms, his bed, after what we've shared. The way he held me last night, like I was precious, like I belonged. It crushes me. A deep and inexplicable attachment that's taken root despite my warnings to myself.
It’s too late, of course, but I tell myself this is just a job. I must start to guard my heart. I repeat the hollow words like a mantra as I swing my legs over the bed's edge.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BLAKE
Ican't believe I'm in the kitchen, spatula in hand, grilling bacon with a focus I usually reserve for boardroom negotiations. I'm no chef, my skills limited to the most basic stuff, but I can make a mean eggs Benedict. I know how to poach the eggs just right so the yolks run golden and creamy over English muffins toasted to crisp perfection. And I have a no-cook 90 second cheat recipe for the Hollandaise Sauce.
Separate eggs. Melt butter. Blitz yolks with cayenne pepper, lemon juice, salt and water. Pour in butter slowly over 45 seconds while blitzing constantly. Once all the butter is in, give it another whirl for 10 seconds more, and voila! Perfect Hollandaise Sauce.
As I watch the sauce thicken it pops into my head that this is the first time this house has felt like a perfectly domesticated home. Staff given the day off, Mother spending a night with a friend in the city, daughter on a fun sleepover, wife still in bed after a night of awesome sex.
A man couldn’t ask for more.
Once the eggs Benedict are plated and the hollandaise draped like silk over the stacks, I pour some freshly-squeezed orange juice into a couple of glasses and load everything onto a tray. I wipe my hands on a dishtowel. A vase with a flower in it. That will complete the look. I pluck a red rose from the flower arrangement on the table in the nook, and stick it in a glass tumbler with some water. That’s it. That’s the look I was going for. With a smile, I pick up the tray and leave the kitchen. A sudden urge to see Carolyn pulls me up the stairs. My footsteps feel light, and my heart feels as if it is full of sunshine.
I enter her bedroom, and it looks and reeks of dirty sex. Just the way I like it. The bed is unmade, the sheets are twisted, the scent of our coupling hangs in the air, but she is nowhere to be found. I place the tray on the coffee table and head towards the walk-in closet. Rows of designer handbags sit like artwork on the shelves. I find her seated on the floor with her back against one of the wardrobes. She is wearing a robe. Underneath, I know she is buck naked. Her eyes are closed as if she has fallen asleep with a dress clutched in her lap. The fabric pools around her like a forgotten dream.
She looks like a beautiful but tragic heroine. A sad princess that belongs in a fairytale.
For a long time, I lean against the doorframe and simply watch her. My heart somersaults in my chest as I take in the extraordinary sight: strawberry blonde waves tousled, face soft in repose. Lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, vulnerable in a way that hits me square in the gut.
Last night was hands down the best sex of my life. Her body yielded to mine, and her moans still echo in my soul. A connection that shattered the walls between us. I can't believe it. It’s like waking from a long sleep to find the black and white world you live in is now in full technicolor.
I realize that for the first time after years of marriage, I'm falling in love with my wife. Truly falling. Not the arranged affection of the past, but something real and deep. Something precious and unexpected. Something I want to hold on to forever. I will give my life for this woman.
Crouching down to brush golden strands away from her face, I tenderly wake her up. My fingers linger on her cheek. "Hey," I murmur softly.
She jumps up with a gasp, her eyes flying open wide. "I’m not asleep. I was trying to pick something to wear.” Her voice is still husky from sucking my cock.
"Too many options, huh?" I tease, jerking my head towards the overflowing racks. The sheer abundance that's always overwhelmed her before.
She nods, rubbing her eyes, that sleepy vulnerability making my chest ache.
"Wear something of mine then," I say, the words slipping out unbidden. An impulse to pull her closer into my world, to wrap her in me.
Her mouth parts slightly. "Um... okay," she says softly.
I lead her back to my room, her hand in mine. It seems so warm and small.
Chapter Forty
