Love (Uncivilized 1.5)

Cementing.

Fuck. This is the first time she's ever turned away from me, and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. For the first time in our marriage, I feel unbalanced where my wife is concerned, and I'm not quite sure how to address it with her. We've always talked.

Always.

And yet, now... all I can think about is how thick that invisible wall just became the minute she turned her back on me, refusing to give me the courtesy of her attention.

Chapter 3

Moira

The minute I curl into myself after turning away from Zach, I suck my breath in deep and hold it to see what he does. Tonight was headed for a knockdown, drag-out fight, but the longer I sat in bed and watched the clock tick away the time, the more I realized the fight probably wasn't going to happen.

Ten-thirty-fucking-PM and he's just now getting home. I thought whatever the hell he was working on tonight was just going to make him late for dinner, not keep him hours on end, which means that he was avoiding coming home as much as I was avoiding his calls earlier tonight.

I wasn't surprised he called not long after I relayed my message to Lila. I figured if she gave it back to him word for word, he would call and try to cajole me into going forward with dinner. He would use all of that Zach-charm he's learned since moving into the modern world, and it would have worked too.

Damn him.

But by ten PM, my steam had started to fizzle, then I started getting tired, and I had decided to go to sleep, figuring the fight would be there when the sun rose. I had just started to doze off when I heard him come in. Heard him taking his clothes off, the sink running in the bathroom, felt the soft dip of the mattress when he climbed into bed.

His hand on my chest, sliding downward, inching under the elastic of my panties.

If there is one way in this world where Zach has utter and complete control over me, it's with his sexual prowess. The man can merely cock a sexy eyebrow at me, and I'm panting for him. I remember once, a few years ago, when Cannon was about six months old, Zach had spent the day out on the golf course, a surprising hobby he picked up while working on his Master's degree. It still cracks me up to think of Zach playing such a civilized game, but that particular day, I was not happy. I had a fussy baby, I was feeling crappy about myself because I still had some baby weight on my tummy that I couldn't seem to get rid of, and all I asked him to do was bring me some damn diapers on the way home from the golf course.

Apparently, or so the story goes from Zach, he ended up having a beer with his golfing buddies afterward and it just slipped his mind.

That day... Zach got a rare peek at the tempest that comes with marrying a certified Irish redhead. I launched into a tirade that was just shy of an all-out shriek as I railed against him for every unfairness that was being bestowed upon me. I lit into him good, not giving a damn that I had just laid Cannon down for a nap, so it was a good thing the kid has always been a fantastic sleeper.

Zach merely let me roll with it, his posture patient, and his eyes understanding of my plight as a harried new mom. That pissed me off even more, and I picked up a book and threw it at him. After he easily sidestepped my missile, he was on me in three long strides.

Before I could open my mouth to say another word, before I could even blink my eyes, he had me flat on the couch and was ripping my pants and underwear off. When I tried to say something, he merely rolled me over, slapped my ass hard, and then rolled me on my back again. In what has become a patented-Zach-Easton move, he rendered me senseless with his fingers and tongue between my legs, even having the gall to apologize while he did some of the best work I had ever experienced.

I didn't need the apologies by the time my second orgasm was cresting. By the time he made me come for the third time, I was willing to forgive him any transgression.

And the smug bastard knew it.

Which is why as I lay here with my eyes closed and my legs curled in to my body, I wait to see what the man will do. I wait to see if I'll get CEO-wannabe Zach or I'll get the uncivilized man that tends to take me whenever and wherever he wants. Trust me when I say, I'll never look at a church vestibule the same way again, and I'm still waiting for the time when we might get struck down by God's wrath for the quickie we had there.

Feeling the mattress shift, I slowly let out my breath. I hope it sounds natural and that Zach doesn't realize that I'm over here totally faking a deep sleep. I hope he doesn't realize that because he'll know it means I'm wondering if he's going to make a further move on me, and I'm equally dreading it as much as I'm craving it.

He knows I can't say no, so let me amend my prior thought... I'm not equally dreading and craving it. It's more like forty-percent dreading it, sixty-percent craving it. No, well... more like thirty dreading, seventy craving. Or, actually, I could never dread his touch.

Will he hurry up and just let me have it?

The mattress shifts again. I'm on the verge of giving a little sigh so he knows I'm not deep under when I hear him mutter, "Fuck this shit."

That's all the warning I get before Zach's arm goes around my waist, and he's dragging me out of the bed. I give a startled yelp and consider putting up a bit of a struggle, but then I'm spun in his arms and his mouth is on mine while my legs automatically start to latch around his hips.

He kisses me deep and wet, finishing me off by sinking his teeth into my lower lip with a growl. Sucking hard, he lets it pop free as he walks us across the room. I can feel him growing hard, his perfect and amazing cock seeming to naturally seek out the desperation between my own legs that my husband creates.

I have no clue what he plans to do to me, and I don't care. I know it will be great, and I relish in letting go every bit of anger and frustration, so we can have this time together. This amazing act that never fails to bubble hot between the two of us when we take the time to give in to it.

Zach merely walks me to the other side of the room, pressing my body right into the wall as his hand comes up to grip the hair at the back of my head. He gives me a hard look, conveying his displeasure that I turned away from him in bed.

I try to look contrite, but I fail miserably. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop the corners of my lips from twitching up. He gives my head a shake and growls, "Little faker."

Now I really smile, big and bright, because I know I'm just moments away from probably being fucked into a coma, but Zach surprises me when he loosens his hold around my waist and my body slides south. When my feet hit the carpet, his fingers tighten in my hair and he pushes down on my head.

My knees bend oh so willingly. How many times since we've known each other has he put me on my knees, and how many times have my panties soaked j

ust knowing how much that turns him on?

His face is still thunderous, and perhaps I overestimated how much I pissed him off by denying him earlier, but I'm good for it. I'll make it up to him.

Zach takes a step back as I descend all the way down until my knees press into soft, wool carpet, and he is pushing his boxers down with his free hand. His cock is so rigid. It's standing straight up... dark and dusty with that thick vein that runs along the underside that my tongue has traced dozens of times over the years.

My husband and I... we are so in tune that words are hardly ever necessary when we are like this together. He merely stares down at me, takes his cock in hand, and leans in toward my mouth. I open automatically, look up at him with slightly apologetic eyes that are still filled with mischief, and take him in deep.

Zach groans... tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He lets me move on him for a few strokes, his fingers still tightly woven through my locks. I keep my eyes raised, watching the pleasure on his face... loving how much he loves what I can do to him.

I falter though when Zach's eyes slowly open, and he moves his gaze down to me. His look is haunted, and he whispers, "Please don't ever turn your back on me like that again."

I pull my head back, letting his shaft slip from my mouth. "Zach... honey--"

He drops to his knees, hands coming to my face, and he leans in so our eyes are only inches apart. "I can handle a lot of things, Moira, but your antipathy isn't one of them."

My heart viciously squeezes, and I hastily assure him. "I won't."

"We always need to talk things out, okay?" he asks urgently.

"Right... okay."

"And it's okay to be mad at each other."

"Sure it is."

"But never turn your back on me," he presses. "No matter how mad you are at me, please never close yourself off."

I can't help it... I throw my arms around him, bury my face in his neck, and make sure he understands how sorry I am. "I won't, baby. I was really mad, and I knew you'd be able to roll right over me with your touches, and I'm glad you did. I always want your touch, no matter what."

"Okay," Zach says as he pulls me off him so he can look at me. His eyes are warm and relieved, and then turn a bit warmer. "Enough talking for now."