He pulls his hand away. Wet fingers back on the steering wheel. I’m fuzzy-headed from almost coming while I stare at his hand on the wheel, my wetness shining on his knuckles in the dashboard light.
“Tease,” I manage.
“Patience, baby.” His mouth hooks up at one corner.
Robert drives, and my clit is still pulsing and my panties are soaked. I was supposed to confess tonight. Tell him everything. Instead, I let Robert finger me in the car, and now the guilt is gone and the secret is right where it was and I don’t even care. For one minute with his hand between my legs, none of it mattered.
The lies are getting easier. And my pussy is getting wetter. Which pretty much sums up the whole goddamn problem.
Chapter 3
The next Saturday morning, Robert is warm against my back and the lie is eating me up inside.
He stirs. His hand slides up my stomach, and I have to stop myself from flinching.
“Morning,” he murmurs against my shoulder. So trusting. “Sleep okay?”
“Fine.” The lie slides out smoothly, the way all the lies do now. “Just dreaming.”
Robert pulls me closer and kisses the back of my neck. The guilt twists in my chest because that kiss is the same one he’s given me every morning for fifteen years. The claim that says I’m his and we don’t lie to each other. That was always the deal. Robertdoesn’t just get off on the sex—it’s the retelling. Being the one person who knows every filthy thing I’ve done and wants me harder for it. And I’ve been slowly, deliberately proving that I don’t deserve him.
“I need to shower,” I say, sliding out of his arms before he can see my face.
Under the water, I press my forehead against the tile and make a decision. Tonight. I’ll tell Robert everything tonight. Every ugly piece.
Okay, Shannon. Ten hours. You can hold your shit together for ten hours.
Except the water is going cold and my hands won’t stop shaking. I’m not sure I can.
I dry off and get dressed. He’s at the kitchen table, in the same chair where he pulled me into his lap and made me come four days ago. His coffee is full, which means something derailed him.
His face is different. Closed off. Robert in judgment mode—the verdict already written, waiting for the other party to catch up.
He’s never aimed that face at me before.
“James called me while you were showering.”
My social smile starts to form and dies. I can’t deploy that smile on him. Not today.
“He saw you at the Goldpoint.” Robert’s voice is even, but there’s a coldness underneath that I’ve never heard before. “He thought I should know.”
My stomach flips. I had until tonight. Tonight came early.
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t confirm a goddamn thing. Whatever James thinks he knows, he’s guessing.”
He protected us.The thought hits like a slap. Even blindsided, he kept our secret.
“What I didn’t know,” Robert continues, “is that you already knew James had seen you because he talked to you. And you hid it from me.”
“Robert—”
“Did you know James saw you at the casino?”
His gray eyes on mine. Twelve feet of tile floor and fifteen years of marriage between us, and every inch of it feels like a poker game I’ve already lost.
I could say James was lying. One more performance. But I’m looking at Robert, the man who said “tell me everything” and meant it about things most husbands could never stomach. Theman who ate another man’s cum out of me and called me his perfect wife.
If I lie to that face, I deserve to lose everything.
