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HARPER
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ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY...
It was raining and I hadn't brought an umbrella to work. My cardigan was soaked through by the time I entered the house.
Rowley was ready to go except for the tie draped around his neck.
God, he looked good. He also looked pissed off.
"You did remember it's our anniversary?"
How could I forget? He'd reminded me that morning before I'd even had my first sip of coffee. He'd had an accusatory tone, as if I'd heartlessly forgotten it.
"Of course, I remembered. I gave you that wrench set you wanted."
Maybe that was like giving a woman a toaster? At least, I'd given him a gift even if it wasn't an inspired one. He hadn't reciprocated so I was actually one up on him.
No, this had nothing to do with the gift. He'd been on edge lately. I'd been walking on eggshells not wanting to set him off.
I skirted around him to get to the kitchen sink.
Today, I'd made tray after tray of savory tarts. I'd chopped my weight in Vidalia onions.
I grabbed a lemon from the bowl on the kitchen counter and cut it in half. I rubbed the lemon over my fingers to get the smell of onion off. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him tie his tie with crisp, impatient movements.
I set the lemon down. "I'm just going to jump in the shower."
I pinned my hair up before stepping under the water. I’d already washed it that morning, and thankfully, it still smelled of shampoo and not onions. I raced through my routine. My skin was still a little damp when I wriggled into my black dress. I zipped myself up, brushed my hair and stuck a few rhinestone clips in it, and then applied another coat of mascara.
I buckled the ankle straps on my stilettos, grabbed my coat from the closet, and headed into the living room.
"Ready," I said, trying to keep my mood cheerful despite his attitude.
His gaze swept over me in that possessive way he had, which made my pulse quicken.
He took the coat from me and helped me into it.
The rain was still pouring when we left the house. It made me yearn for a cozy night by the fire with my husband, but judging by the hard set of his jaw that was not going to be happening.
I knew better than to ask him why our anniversary was making him so tense. Beyond the obvious that it was a romantic milestone, what else was there to it?
"This place is amazing," I enthused as we slid into the dimly lit booth. I'd been dying to try out this new restaurant. It was candlelit and intimate. A perfect setting for a romantic dinner.
He was monosyllabic inside the restaurant, a step up from the complete silence of the drive. I found myself trying to carry the entire conversation. I gabbed about the ambiance even though he'd barely glanced around him. I marveled about the appetizers, which he didn't even touch. He'd ordered a steak dinner and a beer. We might as well have been at one of the usual places we ate at.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," I said. "I met Denise, Tony's wife for coffee a couple of days ago. Their baby is adorable."
He couldn't even work up a one syllable answer to that. He just took a slug of beer. His obstinate silence was starting to worry me.
"I thought maybe we could get a cat."
He chuckled, but it was not a nice chuckle.
"So you want a cat instead of having my baby?"
Finally, a full sentence. "That's not what I said."
"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I heard," he said.
I felt instantly guilty for poking at a sore spot. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
What had happened on our wedding night in that Las Vegas casino still pained me.
I hadn't gone off the pill, even though he'd been begging me to for months. His apology hadn't swayed me, because I was sure I'd had to pass unspoken tests he'd set for me to earn that apology.
I imagined him tallying up the points. One point for continuing with the culinary classes, another for getting the job I'd set my sights on, and yet another for working the job steadily and not mentioning quitting. Maybe I’d even racked up a few points for proving I could be a devoted wife.
Perhaps his inability to influence me in this one area was what all this pent-up anger was about.
I caught sight of the waiter wheeling the dessert cart in our direction. I was certainly not going to prolong the misery and order dessert.
Then the cart arrived. The waiter, who had been charming throughout the evening and far more talkative than my taciturn husband, began listing the different treats on offer.
I pointed to a triple-layered cake. “What’s that one about?”
“Chocolate cake with a caramel ganache icing made with a little bourbon.”
“It looks like a million calories.”
“Certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“That’s probably the nicest thing anybody has said to me all evening,” I told the waiter, but the words were really meant for Rowley.
“We don’t normally do this, but I’d be happy to put a plate together with a few choices for you to sample.”
“She’ll have the chocolate cake,” Rowley cut through our chatter.
Made nervous by my intimidating husband, the waiter removed the cake from the cart and set the plate down on the table with a rattle. He rolled the cart away in a quick hurry.
“Fuck. I’m surprised he didn’t offer to feed you by hand,” Rowley grumbled.
Unlike my husband, I at least waited until the man and his cart were too far away to hear me before speaking. “Thanks a lot,” I said. “I would have enjoyed a plate of samples.”
“And I would have enjoyed knocking him on his ass.”
I frowned. “That sure would have been a civilized response.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “You want me to act civilized. Then don’t flirt.”
“That was not flirting,” I said. “I was just trying to have a tiny bit of conversation with someone friendly.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I couldn’t even tell you the color of his hair. Now, you, on the other hand.” I closed my eyes. “You’re wearing mismatched cufflinks. And your sports watch. Your tie is charcoal with a thin diagonal line of silver. There’s a fresh nick on your chin right here.” I pointed to a spot on my own chin. “Your hair’s about a quarter of an inch longer than you prefer. Hmmm. Did I forget anything? Oh, yes, the surly expression you’ve been wearing all night.” I opened my eyes to find his heated gaze on me.
I started in on my cake. He sat back with one of his arms spread across the back of the booth as if he were waiting on me. I expected that any moment he would start drumming his fingers in impatience. But, despite his mood, his gaze lingered on my mouth as I licked the chocolate off my bottom lip. Whatever issues he had with me lately, it certainly hadn't interfered with our sex life.
The cake was delicious but it was impossible to enjoy it. Rowley’s attitude was too oppressive. I took another bite and then set the fork down and sat back and fiddled with my wine glass, taking sips as I avoided looking at him.
The waiter returned to the table with the check and a box for the leftover cake. He was no longer smiling and eyed Rowley warily as he set the items down.
I continued to sip my wine as Rowley took care of the check.
It was still raining when we left the building. He opened the umbrella we'd brought and put his arm around my waist. I could feel the tension in his body as we headed toward the car. The ride home mimicked the ride to the restaurant. No talking just the whoosh of the windshield wipers. Neither of us bothered to turn on the radio. I found myself nervously twisting a strand of hair around my finger and staring unseeing out of the rain streaked window.
Once at home, he insisted on coming around to help me out of the truck. We walked side by side again in uncompanionable silence. Maybe our anniversary was making him realize this whole marriage thing wasn't for him after all and he wanted out.
I was depressing myself. And I was done trying to guess. I walked to the kitchen and put the cake in the fridge and then immediately took it out again. I popped open the Styrofoam box then got the ice cream from the freezer and scooped out a generous amount and plopped it on top of the cake slice. I forked up a big bite and jammed it into my mouth.
Rowley brought his bad temper into the kitchen and eyed my insane tower of sugar and fat and raised a judgmental eyebrow. I took a big bite just to spite him and nearly choked on the richness.
He yanked loose his tie. "Throw that away and come to bed."
"An anniversary is supposed to be a celebration. I think I'd have more fun celebrating by myself." I opened the fridge, took out the half-full white wine bottle and grabbed the leftover box off the counter and went into the den.
He followed. "I want you in bed."
I flipped on the TV.
He leaned over the top of the couch and picked up the remote and shut it off.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Why are you being such a grouch?"
He lifted his lips in a sort of smile. "I'm being perfectly pleasant. Now be a good little wife and come to bed."
He reached into his suit and pulled out a narrow, telltale box.
I forgot my pique for a moment and jumped up from the couch and reached for it. He made it disappear back into his pocket like a sadistic magician.
I wanted that jewelry. I also wanted him inside of me. I swallowed my pride and followed him into the bedroom.
I put my hand out for the present.
"Hey, little gold digger you'll need to strip first."
I wriggled out of my black dress and his eyes popped wide when he saw my underwear. I swear his pupils grew ten times their normal size at the sight. I'd wondered if I was out of my mind when I'd bought this set but it was worth it for that reaction.
I approached him to kiss him; sure that now he'd gotten a good look he'd want to fool around with me wearing this sexy lingerie first before I stripped completely. I wrapped my hands around his neck and raised myself on tiptoes. His hand reached around and he swiftly unfastened my bra. So much for that theory. I let the bra slip down my arms and then laid it carefully on the dresser. I hurried to push the panties off my hips before he tore them off. Rowley could be a patient man, but not when it came to me.
I reached inside his jacket and fished out the box. I pulled off the thin red ribbon and let it flutter to the ground and then held my breath as I opened the box. It was a beautiful gold chain choker with a small lock pendant with its own tiny key. I squealed with delight.
He made me turn around so he could close the clasp. I checked myself in the mirror. "I wish you'd given this to me before we'd gone to dinner. It would've looked great with that dress."
"I wanted you to wear it just for me first."
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on a chair and then pulled his tie free of his shirt collar and dropped it on top of the jacket. He didn’t bother to remove his shirt; he simply unbuckled, unzipped, and shoved his pants and boxer briefs off his hips. He scooped me up, his big hand cradling my naked bottom. I wrapped myself around him.
His other hand cupped the back of my head, bringing me in for a hard kiss. I sensed his frustration even through his kiss.
His hands shifted to grip my waist. He lowered me so his shaft was aimed at my entrance.
He didn't even press me against the wall for support, he just lowered me onto his cock, his muscles in his arms bulging. He felt so right, so delicious inside of me.
He lifted me and repeated the motion. And then he did it again. It was a wonder he didn't burst his shirt seams.
I was riding him, but with no help from me. He was doing all the work and it felt utterly amazing. My pussy stretched around his wide girth on the downward stroke.
How long could he keep this up? I lingered on the edge of orgasm, trying to hold it off because it was just the most out of control feeling, having my gorgeous husband in complete control of my body like that.
The speed and depth of his penetration kept increasing. I cried out as he lifted me almost all the way off his cock and held me suspended for a long moment before forcing me back down so he was buried to the hilt.
My head started swimming as if I was being dropped from a great height. My whole body pulsed as the orgasm hit. I wanted to cry out my love for him, but I swallowed it back as I had learned to do. It was like a physical ache holding it in.
My orgasm was just tapering off when he set me down on the dresser, the wall cold against my back. He reached over and flipped on a second light. I knew from experience that he liked watching me take all of him. He growled low in his throat as I parted my thighs for him. A lock of his hair fell forward. I wanted to hold him, to touch him, to breathe in his scent, but, instead, I just gripped the edge of the dresser and opened my legs wider.
His intense gaze feasted on my spread pussy and I was reminded of how he'd kept me naked for hours after I'd returned to him, pretending to decide whether he wanted me to get another piercing. Without the ring, the piercing had closed up quickly.
He'd sucked and nibbled on my clit, and flicked it gently with his fingers. Loose-limbed and drowsy from multiple orgasms, I'd finally asked him what the verdict was.
"Baby, I decided after my first look. I don't want jewelry blocking my view. I want to see every tiny bit of your beautiful pussy."
He closed up the space between us and scooped one hand beneath my bottom, digging his fingers into my buttock cheek, and then he braced the other hand on the wall above my head. I pulled in a sharp breath as his pace quickened. He drove into me deep and fast. His shirt was getting damp with sweat.
My pussy was making a sucking sound as he continued to pump in and out. His movements started getting a little reckless, and then his big body shuddered, the heat of him spilling inside of me.
He pulled out of me. I stayed seated, still reeling from all his intimate attentions. I watched as he got himself back in order, straightening up his clothes.
He lifted me off the dresser and set me on my feet. "Hey, babe, never forget you have my heart in your hands."
That should have been poignant, but somehow it sounded like a warning.
Confused, I headed to the bathroom. I could feel his come trickling down my inner thigh. I wondered how many babies were conceived on anniversary nights. Wasn't going to happen with us. And I certainly wasn't blameless.
After fixing myself up, I stepped out of the bathroom to find the bedroom empty. I switched off the light and slipped naked into bed to wait for him. I heard the TV turn on, some droning sports news channel. Even after all that, he was still brooding.
I climbed out of bed and without bothering to turn on the light I plucked a t-shirt out of the drawer. It was short and fairly tight and barely reached the top of my thighs. Hardly, the appropriate attire to have a serious discussion with one's mate. I shrugged inwardly. Maybe I could entice him back to bed.
He was sitting forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together. His sleeves were rolled up and I caught the glint of his big silver sports watch. His head was bowed; he wasn't even looking at the TV.
Seeing him like that I forgot completely about my attempt to sexy him out of his bad mood. I came around the couch and he lifted his head. "Are you going to tell me what I've done wrong?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not your fault. It's mine." He picked up the remote and muted the sound.
I crossed my arms over my chest which pulled up my already too short t-shirt. I immediately dropped my arms to my sides and tugged on the hem. "No, I'm pretty sure you think whatever it is, is my fault."
He watched for a second as I tried to stretch the fabric and then his gaze flicked to my face. "On this one thing you decide to obey me." He'd gone from contrite to angry in nothing flat.
Now I was bristling with anger, I wanted to remind him that I'd been entirely cooperative in the bedroom mere minutes ago, but when he was being bull-headed there was no getting through to him.
"I thought it would be something you were as desperate to say to me as I was desperate to hear it," he said. "I thought sure as hell, tonight of all nights, you'd say it. I didn't think I'd have to beg you."
Now I understood. Steam should be coming out of my ears.
"Jump in anytime, babe," he said.
"I thought I wasn't allowed to say those words until I crossed that arbitrary line you'd established. Our second anniversary, right? Not our first."
He shrugged his big shoulders as if to say it was his prerogative to change the terms of his edict.
He stood up and faced me. I felt his tightly coiled emotions from here. "Maybe you can't say it because I was right. Maybe it was nothing more than a schoolgirl crush."
"My feelings for you—"
"No, don't placate me," he said, clearly trying to cut me off before I said something he wouldn’t like. "You're my wife. For better or worse, darlin'. Doesn't matter if you love me or not."
The scowl on his face said otherwise.
"Rowley, you aren't going to shut me up about this again."
He squared his jaw. Damn if he wasn't bracing himself for what he'd always thought was inevitable, that I would break his heart.
"You are wrong. My love for you has always been real. Yeah, I found out things about you I didn't know. That you have a temper, and that you expect to always get your way and that if you don't, you can be quite a jerk. But guess what? Those flaws just make me love you more. Did you think that just because I didn't say those words that I wasn't thinking them? Do you have any idea what it feels like to keep something like that bottled up all the time? Just now in the bedroom, I wanted so badly to say it.”
He was crossing the room to me. His shirt gaped open, exposing a tantalizing sliver of his muscular chest. The second he got close enough, I began popping open the rest of the buttons. I slipped my arms beneath his open shirt and around his warm body.
"So say it." I could feel the rumble of his deep voice beneath my cheek.
And here I thought I'd said it quite eloquently. "I'm in love with you," I said against his chest.
He reached around and peeled my hands off his back and then set me away from him. He tilted my chin up with his fingers so that I was forced to look him in the face. "Say it again," he said.
I was blinking back tears now, quite unsuccessfully. "I love you more than anything.” The tears started rolling down my face. “You are the only man I have ever loved or will ever love," I said on a sob.
He lifted the tail of his shirt and started to dry my face. "I'm going to need to hear that a lot to make up for all that lost time."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Mine. I'm a goddamn idiot." He dropped his shirt tail and yanked me into his big, protective arms.