His cool gaze finally meets mine in the mirror as he scrubs at his hair with the towel. He doesn’t say anything, just finishes drying off, then he walks naked to the linen closet and grabs a second towel.
I don’t move until he stops in front of the open shower door and holds it out for me.
Swallowing, I step forward and take it. “Thank you,” I say softly.
Brant nods once then walks into the bedroom to grab some clothes.
I sigh miserably and finally step out of the shower. My body is pissed off since it thought an orgasm was imminent, so I dry off quickly and go out to get some pajamas.
On second thought, I skip the pajamas and climb into bed naked. He might be able to say no to me right now because I just sucked him off, but when we’re lying in bed and my naked body is mere inches from his, he might change his tune.
Jerk.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he turns to look at me. I pout at him, but he merely shakes his head and turns away.
God, he’s the worst. And the best. I love him so fucking much.
Marriage to him is going to be torture, isn’t it?
Once Brant turns out all the lights, he climbs into bed with me. He’s wearing a pair of dark blue flannel sleep pants that I usually love to admire on him, but tonight they’re my mortal enemy.
I know I’ll have to lie here long enough for him to get an erection again before I can play with it, but that doesn’t seem like it will be a problem. Unless I take care of my own needs, there’s no way I’ll be able to relax enough to fall asleep.
The thought crosses my mind as we lie here in the dark, not cuddling, not speaking to one another. There’s no way he would be able to ignore me if I slid my hand down beneath the sheets and started touching myself… right?
I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure, and the prospect of being rejected by him twice in one night is too much to bear, so I don’t try.
While I’m lying there thinking about snagging his attention, his mind is clearly on other things. When he finally does turn his head to look at me, it’s not with the lust I was hoping to see in his gaze. He looks a little tormented, and the realization guts me, slicing right through any remaining lust and sexual frustration I had been hanging onto.
While I’m trying to stitch my insides back together to keep myself from bleeding out over the pain I’m clearly causing him, he sharpens a knife.
“You told me once that if you had it all to do over again, you never would’ve let Theo touch you.”
I draw a shallow breath, looking up at the ceiling because I can’t look at him. “I remember.”
“Did you mean it?” he demands.
I don’t even notice tears have welled up in my eyes until I squeeze them closed and inadvertently squeeze a drop out. It rolls down my left cheek and seeps into the pillowcase beneath my head. If Brant notices, he doesn’t mention it.
It makes me miserable that he even has to ask that this far into our relationship. No, we haven’t been together for a long time like most couples making the commitment we’re making, but he knows me well enough to marry me; he should know me well enough to know the answer to this question.
He does. Deep down, I know he does, it’s just that Theo planted doubts in his mind that day in the barn, and Brant’s mind was already pre-fertilized to feed any doubt that tried to take root.
“Yes, I meant it,” I assure him, keeping my voice soft despite the temptation to get defensive. I’m tired of apologizing over and over again for the same mistake. I would do it anyway if it ever helped, but it doesn’t seem to.
“Is it your greatest regret?”
“No,” I answer.
That seems to surprise him. Even though I’m not looking at him, I hear his head brush the pillow as he looks over at me. “No?”
I shake my head faintly, opening my eyes and looking up at the ceiling. “It’s definitely top three, don’t get me wrong, but no. My greatest regret to date isn’t letting Theo knock me up. It’s not shutting myself inside the house and locking the door when he came over that day. It’s letting him worm his way in between us the way he so obviously has.”
“That would have never happened if you hadn’t let him touch you to begin with,” Brant points out.
Finally looking over at him, I point out, “I never would have met you if I hadn’t let that miserable bastard touch me. Even though you seem to hate me a little bit now, that’s not a reality I’d prefer.”