Rosa
Something is wrong.
Tiernan isn’t his usual eat-up-the-air-in-the-whole-room self.
I felt it the moment he walked through the door.
No.
That’s a lie.
I’ve been feeling his sullen and pensive mood get worse with each passing day. If we had a normal husband and wife relationship, I would have badgered him until he told me what ails him so. But since we made sure to create a division between us, using bricks of resentment and hate to stack up our invisible wall, I don’t say a word and pretend I don’t see his misery.
He picks at his dinner in silence as if his thoughts will swallow him whole. I usually take advantage of our dinner dates to pull him into conversation, so I can learn more about the man I’m married to, but tonight I’m hesitant to do that. I fear if I do, he might say something that will hurt me, and Tiernan does enough of that without my help.
Unfortunately, my concern only multiplies when he pushes his barely touched plate to the side, preferring to open another bottle of red wine so he can drown his sorrows. Against my better judgment to let this night end without uttering one word to each other, I’m the one who ends up breaking the heavy silence.
“You always wear black,” I announce evenly, running a finger over the rim of my wine glass. “It’s been two months since we got married, and I have yet to see you wear another color.”
“If there is a question in there somewhere, I don’t hear it,” he replies dryly.
I brush his coldness away and continue on with my rhetoric.
“I’m just curious. Is there any other color in your closet, or are you committed to just the one?”
“Black suits me just fine. Unlike you, I could never pull off virgin white.”
My cheeks flame crimson.
“Are you insinuating that I only wear white? I can guarantee you that I don’t.”
“No. You like to mix it up with eggshell, ivory, and sometimes a light cream. Still looks pretty damn white to me.”
I can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of me.
“What’s so funny?” He cocks a brow.
“Sorry. It just seems out of this world hearing you, of all people, say words like eggshell. I would have never guessed you had such vast knowledge of color palettes.”
When there is the smallest of tugs to his upper lip, my chest warms. I almost got him to smile. Needing to see just how far I can push him, I place my elbows on the edge of the table and lock my hands under my chin, purposely batting my eyelashes at him.
“How about I make you a deal? Wear some other color that isn’t black just once, and I’ll wear any color you’d like.”
“Any color?” he asks, amused, actually considering my proposal.
“Any color. The sky’s the limit.”
“Very well. I’ll indulge you in this little game of yours. What color does my wife want to see me in?”
I don’t even hesitate.
“Midnight blue. Like the color your eyes darken to sometimes. Or at least like one of them does.”
“Hmm. I’m surprised you even noticed such things about me.”
I notice everything about you, husband.
I just wish I didn’t.
“How could I not? It’s not every day you meet someone with a non-matching set.”
“But you prefer my blue to my green, otherwise you would have asked me to wear that color.”
“Your Irish blood is green enough for me. It’s the indigo blue that intrigues me.”
“So I intrigue you?” he muses, catching my slip of the tongue.
“Yes. Very much so,” I confess, unsure if I should be this candid with him.
His blue eye goes pitch black as it always does when an unnamed emotion hits him.
“You intrigue me too, acushla . More than you know.”
I bite my lower lip and bow my head, unable to keep eye contact when he’s looking at me like that. Like I would be a better meal than anything I could have prepared for him tonight.
“You really can’t help it, can you?” he announces, gaining my attention back on him.
“Can’t help what?”
“Fucking with my head.”
My forehead wrinkles at that statement, but I don’t dare touch it with a stick.
“Red,” he finally says after a long pregnant pause. “I want to see you in red. Do you think you can accommodate your husband’s request on this?”
“Yes,” I breathe out.
We both stare into each other’s eyes, and for a split second the world disappears, and all there is is him and me. But just as I’m starting to enjoy this unexpected moment of truce, I feel something isn’t right.
“No… No. No!” I shout, pushing my chair back and running to the ensuite in my bedroom.
I slip off my pants and sit on the toilet, grabbing toilet paper to wipe myself with. When I bring it back up and see droplets of blood on it, hot tears begin to blur my vision. It’s only when I catch movement in my peripheral, that I see Tiernan is standing at my bathroom’s door, watching me.
“You got your red, husband. Happy?”
He frowns.
I let my tears fall as I slump onto the bathroom tile floor, uncaring that I’m letting him see me like this.
Logical thought tells me that not getting pregnant the first month that I’m actively trying to is to be expected. That sometimes it can even take years for a woman to conceive and that I should just brush this off and not take it as my own personal failure. But even as I try to gain some perspective that this is normal, and that I should expect such disappointment in the future, my heart still weeps for the love that is just outside my grasp.
I’m so consumed with my suffering that I don’t even pay attention to Tiernan’s actions until he’s kneeled down right beside me, brushing away the strands of my hair that are glued to my cheeks from my tears.
“Shh, acushla . Shh,” he whispers, placing gentle kisses to my wet cheeks and eyelids.
My shoulders tremble with each sob that comes out, unable to control the wave of sadness gutting me. I don’t even complain when Tiernan begins to undress me, peeling off my shirt, pants, and the stained panties that mock me for my failings. He then picks me off the floor and walks me over to the bathtub. Sometime during my grief, he must have managed to fill the tub with warm water. He gently lays me in it, and once I’m fully submerged, he kneels down beside me, folding his sleeves just above his elbow. He then picks up a bottle of liquid soap, fills his palms with it, and begins to wash my trembling form.
Misery has made me too exhausted to fight him off, and a part of me actually yearns for his soft caress, as if it could solve all my problems. I blink my tears away, biting my bottom lip to control the sobs that refuse to stop, as he ever so gently lavishes my every limb and soft curve with the floral-smelling soap.
We don’t say anything as Tiernan thoroughly lavishes my body with white suds and then rinses me off. With the same care and attention, he washes my breasts and in between my legs without uttering a salacious or mean word. None of this is sexual, which not only surprises me, but also has my heart shattering that my husband is even capable of such selfless care. Once he’s satisfied that my body is clean, he then begins to wash my hair with the same devoted attention.
My tears subside with the feel of his strong fingers washing each strand. He then rinses the shampoo out of my hair, shielding my eyes with his hand as he goes about it. Every action has my heart beating a song I never thought it could. A song that only Tiernan could ever coax from me. I let him pull me out of the water and wrap me in a towel to dry me off. He then picks me up and sits me on the sink, making my throat dry in anticipation of what he’ll do or say next. I’m afraid to utter a word, thinking that my voice will somehow break this spell he’s under.
As unlikely as it seems for a man like him, Tiernan is being kind.
More than that.
He’s taking care of me. Loving me—in his own way.
And after all the bruises and cuts that he’s inflicted on my heart, I soak in his kindness like a flower soaks up the sun to prevent it from withering away in the shadows.
Tiernan then picks up my hairbrush and begins to disentangle my wet hair. I can’t remember a time anyone has ever done this for me, or even anyone who made such an effort to ensure I’m well taken care of. Once my hair is properly brushed to his standards, he goes back into my room and brings in my pajamas. When I understand that his intention is to dress me in them, I gently grab his wrist and shake my head.
“I can take it from here,” I whisper.
His disappointed frown is immediate, but he relents and walks out of the bathroom to give me some privacy. I can’t help my own displeasure resurfacing when he leaves the room, ending the rare moment of tenderness, but it had to be done. The next thing I’ll have to do, I’d rather do in private without his intense eyes on me. Once he’s closed the door behind him, I carefully jump off the sink’s counter and put in a tampon before I get dressed. I blow dry my hair just enough for it not to be wet when I go to bed. I’m too exhausted for anything other than sleeping my grief away.
It’s only when I open the door to my bedroom and see Tiernan sitting at the edge of the bed that I realize he never strayed far, even when I told him to go.
“You stayed.”
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
I shake my head and walk towards the bed. I slide under its covers, watching my husband slowly take off his clothes until he’s left only in boxers. My gaze never trails down his beautiful body, no matter how much it craves to see him in all his glory. I keep my eyes on his face at all times and don’t move an inch when he climbs in next to me. It’s only when he wraps his arm around me so I can lie cradled against his warmth that I let out a sob at how perfect he’s being.
“Sleep, acushla . Sleep.”
I nestle my head on his chest and close my eyes, loving the feel of his hand stroking my back ever so lightly. And it’s with the sound of Tiernan’s heartbeat that I’m lullabied to sleep, to dream of a world where the only version that existed of my husband was this one.
The next morning when I wake up, I immediately feel his absence in my bed.
Tiernan must have left early in the morning to go to work or wherever else he goes when he’s not home during the day. But even though the left side of my bed is cold without him, the memories of waking up throughout the night and him being right at my side, hugging me to him and whispering sweet nothings in my ear in Gaelic, remain. He didn’t leave my side once, for which I’m grateful.
I turn to the clock on my nightstand and see that it is well past ten in the morning. I must have overslept. Not that there’s anything for me to do today. With me being on my period, there is no reason to meet up with Colin and Shay today. And they were the only two reasons I would ever set foot out of this house anyway.
I get out of bed, my cramps already killing me, to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Once that’s done, I make my way into the kitchen, hoping a hot cup of coffee will warm my cold bones. I stop halfway when I see Tiernan sitting on the couch in the living room with his laptop open on the coffee table.
“You’re here,” I blurt out.
“That’s the second time you seem surprised to see me in my own home, acushla .” He hides a small smile, looking straight at his computer screen.
“I just assumed you would have left for work already.”
“I decided to work from home today. Unless you prefer that I leave, that is?” he replies automatically, still focused on whatever he’s reading instead of making eye contact.
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me, and walk into the kitchen to grab my morning coffee. When I see that the dishes from our dinner last night have been washed and put away, I crinkle my nose in confusion.
“Was Elsa here this morning? I thought she was only going to come in tomorrow.”
“She is. Why?” Tiernan retorts, still engrossed in his work.
“I just assumed she came in today since the kitchen is spotless.”
“I can put dishes into the dishwasher, acushla . It doesn’t make me any less of a man to tidy up after myself and my wife.”
“No. I guess not.”
I bite the corner of my lip, filling my coffee mug, when a small white bag on the kitchen counter grabs my attention.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking a peek inside.
“I asked Darren to go to the pharmacy and pick you up some things. I wasn’t sure what you needed, so I told him to buy you some candy and chocolate, those artsy magazines you leave lying around the house, and some other things Iris used to bug me to get when she was on her period. I’m not sure any of it will help, but hopefully the meds will ease up some of the pain.”
Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?
The words are right at the tip of my tongue, but I don’t dare speak them out loud.
I walk over to the couch and take a seat, wrapping myself under a blanket, with my coffee mug in one hand and a magazine in the other. After I’ve drank my fill and read all the articles that interest me most, I’m a little unsure of what to do next. It’s not like Tiernan and I have ever lived together. I mean, we have lived in the same apartment for the past two months, but that’s still a far stretch from living as man and wife. Aside from me blackmailing him into having dinner with me every night, our interaction under this roof has been scarce and far between.
“You can turn the T.V. on if you want,” he says as if reading my thoughts.
“Are you sure?” I ask, eyeing his laptop.
“A little noise won’t disturb me from doing my job.” He chuckles under his breath.
“Okay.”
I turn on the T.V. and scour it for something to watch. Since I’m not in the best of moods, I pick a stand-up comedy, hoping some light humor will shift my disposition. As it goes on, Tiernan begins to laugh at a certain joke, closing his laptop and settling into the couch. I place my now empty mug on the coffee table and lean back into the cushion. I stay like that for a minute or so, before Tiernan’s arm reaches over my shoulders and tugs me into his side.
He’s still laughing away at the jokes being told, but his grip on me only tightens until I’m fully relaxed at his side. I take advantage, looking at him when his attention is diverted to the T.V. screen.
“You wore blue,” I state, staring at his jeans and navy long sleeve.
“Aye. It’s not the midnight blue you wanted, but it’s all I could have come up with on such short notice.”
I’m not sure why Tiernan indulging me by wearing a different color than his usual black has my heart pitter-pattering in my chest, but it does. I snuggle in closer to him, nestling my head on his shoulder, praying to Virgen de Guadalupe that this isn’t some mean trick he’s pulling on me. That this man who is being so thoughtful and kind lingers on, and that the man who only takes pleasure in seeing me crawl on my knees for him disappears once and for all.
And as if she heard my prayers, for the rest of the week, Tiernan works from home, taking long intervals just to be with me. It’s as close to happiness as I’ve ever been with him since he put a ring on my finger. The only thing that dims its shine is the realization that I might be falling in love with him.
Or worse.
That I already have.
“Pizza’s here,” Tiernan shouts from the elevator, carrying a large box of sizzling pepperoni goodness in his hands.
“Oh, good. I’m starving.” I jump off of the couch to help him bring our dinner in.
“It’s hot, acushla ,” he warns when I try to take the box out of his hands. “Go and grab us some napkins and a couple of beers, and I’ll set this up in the living room,” he says before placing a chaste kiss to my cheek.
I don’t even find it odd anymore that Tiernan has been so affectionate with me lately. For the past week or so, we’ve spent most of our time together. He’s even slept in my room, holding me in his arms throughout the night. He hasn’t tried to seduce me in any way, for which I was grateful in the beginning. Now I’m just frustrated.
I want him to kiss me.
Say all those naughty words that set my skin on fire.
To take me like a man who needs to own every part of his wife would.
I just need him.
And that need both irritates me and consumes me.
I take two bottles of Guinness out of the fridge, grab two plates and napkins, and walk over to the living room, taking my seat at his side.
“Have you picked something for us to watch tonight?”
“I have,” I smile wickedly.
“Should I be concerned?” He laughs when he sees the mischief in my grin, placing a slice on a plate and handing it over to me.
“No. I don’t think so. I think you’ll actually enjoy this movie.”
“Is that so?” He continues to chuckle.
“Aye,” I retort, using his preferred dialect to drive the point home.
“Hmm. I’m intrigued. What’s it about?”
“Mobsters.”
He lets his head fall back and laughs a good-natured laugh, one that I seldomly hear from him and lap up like it’s pure sunshine.
“If it’s Goodfellas, The Untouchables, or The Godfather, I’ve already seen it. Besides those movies are more centered on La Cosa Nostra and The Outfit. Not really my cup of tea. I’m more of a Boondock Saints man myself.”
“Of course, you are.” I giggle. “And my baby brother Francesco prefers to binge Narcos.”
“Have you talked to him recently?” he questions absentmindedly, taking a big bite out of his pizza while I pick out the movie on Netflix that I want him to watch.
“I have. I called him this morning. Thank you again for giving me a phone. Talking to him makes me feel less homesick.”
“It was long overdue. I was just being a prick not giving you one sooner.”
“Wow. Honesty,” I tease.
“I’ve always been honest with you. You just never liked hearing my truth.”
“I like hearing it now.”
He snaps his head my way, his gaze falling to my lips for the smallest of moments and then back to my eyes.
“Put the fucking movie on, acushla ,” he mumbles, ripping another bite out of his pizza before he decides to take a bite out of me.
“Okay. You asked for it,” I taunt, pressing play on the movie.
We both eat our dinner in silence as the story about a mafioso kidnapping a woman in the hopes she will eventually fall in love with him unfolds on the screen. Tiernan huffs and mumbles at the incredibility of a few scenes that depict our world, but for the most part, he’s attentive. Interested in the outcome even. It’s only when the sex scenes start that he goes rigidly quiet.
I, on the other hand, am very aware of every shift and move he makes, the moans on the screen only heating my already feverish skin. Every time the anti-hero grabs his love by the neck and kisses her I swallow dryly, remembering the feel of Tiernan’s fingers wrapped around my throat.
When my thighs push together to ease the ache in between them, I feel Tiernan’s gaze fall to my lap.
“I forgot,” he mumbles, running his thumb over his lower lip.
“Forgot what?” I breathe out, my traitorous voice hinting at the pain I’m currently in.
“I forgot that you know how to play dirty when it suits you.”
“How am I playing dirty, husband? It’s only a movie.”
“Is it? Or is this your not-so-subtle way to tell me you want to get fucked?” he arches a brow, his tongue licking his lips.
“I have no idea what you’re going on about.” I feign ignorance.
“Right. Because you’re that innocent.”
“Neither one of us is innocent, husband. You most of all should know that.”
“You’re right. I do. There are a lot of things that I know. Like how your pussy is drenched right now, aching for me to make my move and fill it up with my cock.”
I don’t even try to hide my blush away and instead just stare him dead in the eye.
“You don’t know everything, husband.”
“That’s true, too. I don’t know everything,” he whispers, tugging at the end of a strand of my hair. “But I know you.”
The scoff that comes out of me is just as unconvincing as the woman’s moans on the screen.
“Are you saying that if I put my hands on you right now, I wouldn’t find you wet and wanting?”
“I’m saying that you have a bigger ego than you have sense.” I smile sweetly at him.
“That’s not the only thing that’s big right now. Should I show you what I mean, acushla ? All you have to do is ask.”
My heart beats in my throat as I watch him stroke the large bulge in his pants.
“Show me,” I whisper, my gaze glued to his large hand adding pressure to his sheathed cock.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he grunts. “But I’ll do you one better.”
Before I realize his intentions, his hands are on my waist, pulling me up from my seat and straddling me on his lap. I moan when his hard cock rubs against my sensitive clit.
“Now, isn’t this better?” He cocks a smile, his hands on my hips forcing me to rub up against him.
“Better for you, maybe. I’m not so easily impressed.”
“You always did like to make me work for it.” He chuckles, amused.
“Your memory is faulty, too. As I recall, I always did most of the work.”
“Then why break from tradition?” he coos, his rich ale breath tickling my neck as he leans into my ear. “If you want to get fucked, then I suggest you work for it.”
His words should embarrass me, but they don’t. In fact, they spur me on, making me rub myself against him without his added persuasion. I ride his cock, our clothes starting to bother me, wanting him inside me already. But if I’m to be left hurting, then by God, so will he. It doesn’t take long for both of us to be panting, my nipples hard as jewels each time they chafe against my shirt, while his hands cup my ass cheeks to keep our rhythm going. When I feel he’s starting to lose all decorum, I lean in and bite his scruffy jaw, using my tongue to lick up his cheek.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, dry humping me to the edge of oblivion. “Stop playing games, acushla .”
“Who says I’m playing anything?” I taunt, my teeth sinking into his earlobe.
“Goddamn it,” he growls, hurriedly pulling the hem of my t-shirt over my head.
Inwardly I stand on the podium to receive my award for making him break first, but the image soon vanishes away when his mouth begins to suck at my tender breasts.
“Argh!” I arch my back, seeking out his forbidden kiss.
“Hold still, wife. Fuck,” he growls, pulling his mouth from one nipple to go to the next.
“Tiernan,” I sigh in utter desperation, tugging at his hair.
“Just say it. Tell me what you want.”
“Please,” I beg.
My nipple pops out of his mouth as his fingers wrap themselves around my neck. I almost cum from just this.
“Tell me,” he orders, his haughty gaze pouring gasoline on a large open flame burning inside me.
“I need you,” I relent, hoping my confession is enough for him to show me some mercy.
“No. You don’t. Tell me what you really need, and it’s yours. Say it.”
Virgen .
I swallow my pride and utter the words he yearns to hear.
“I need you to fuck me, husband. Please.”
The words have barely touched the air between us, but it’s all Tiernan needs to tip him over. His hands work double time to pull his cock out from his jeans and boxers, while I simultaneously pull down my pajamas and panties. It’s messy and hectic and deranged, but it’s only when I slide down his cock that true bliss occurs.
“Fuck. I missed this,” he groans, his eyes snapping closed for a moment as if it’s all too much for him.
“Tiernan,” I plead, so desperate for him to move that I’m sure I’ll lose my mind if he doesn’t.
“Ride me, wife. Ride my cock like it’s yours. Because it is, my sweet acushla . It is,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands back on my hips ready to guide me home.
Our gazes lock on where we are joined as I pull myself up and sink back to the base of his cock. Bringing air into my lungs becomes a useless necessity compared to this. This is all I need to keep breathing. To feel alive. Just this. Tiernan owning every part of me, claiming me body and soul, is all I need in this precise moment to feel free.
“Tiernan,” I whisper between gasps of pleasure, my hands holding on to his shoulders for balance.
I push myself up and down his shaft, my legs trembling with each ruthless thrust he impales me with.
“Look at me. Look at me,” he commands on a strained breath.
I do as he says, still overwhelmed with all the sensations traveling through my body. His hooded gaze pierces mine, and even though I didn’t ask him to, he leans in and kisses me. Tears start to sting my eyes at the knowledge of how much I missed his lips on mine. It’s like he’s breathing life into my broken, bruised heart and mending all its shattered pieces with his love.
But for that to be possible, Tiernan would have to love me.
And he doesn’t.
I’m just his plaything.
Something he can entertain himself with and then push away once he’s grown bored of it.
So why does this kiss feel like that’s a lie?
Why does it make me believe in the impossible? That deep inside my cold-hearted husband lies a heart that beats to the tune of my name?
“Be here with me, acushla . Be here with me,” he whispers in between breaths, kissing me like his lips are the window to his soul’s desire.
I push all deprecating thoughts away and do as he commands. I commit myself to this one moment and let myself believe the beautiful lie his lips imprint on mine. I feel my core clench around him, needing to trap him inside so that he can fill all the hollow places that dwell in my soul from the lack of his love.
“Tiernan,” I whisper again, only this time it feels like an admission of my love for him.
He looks into my eyes, his green one softening so much I almost believe that this is real. And as I lap that lie up and nurture it in my heart, hoping one day it will blossom into the truth, I cum hard on his impaling cock, shuddering profusely as the orgasm wrecks my body.
“FUCK!” Tiernan shouts, pushing me inches away from his lap so that he can cum on my stomach.
Sadness, more than bitter disappointment, cuts through the moment of bliss I just experienced, tearing it up into tiny pieces of confetti. I pull off his lap and cover myself with the sofa’s blanket, trying everything in my power not to come undone and cry in front of him. His forehead wrinkles in confusion as he stares at me while tucking himself back into his jeans.
“Why?” I utter, my voice thick with despair.
“Why what?” he counters, reaching his arm to pull me closer, but I just inch further away from him.
“Why is the idea of having a baby with me so repulsive to you?”
His features instantly harden to stone, his demeanor closing off to me.
“This is what you want to talk about? Now?”
“Why not? You never gave me a reason.”
“That’s because I don’t need to.”
I shake my head.
“No. I will not let you bully me into submission. I’ve earned the right to know. Tell me.”
“You’ve earned nothing,” he growls, getting up from his seat to walk away.
“Don’t you dare walk out on me, Tiernan Kelly!” I shout, getting up to my feet, the blanket pooling on the ground.
His gaze scans my naked body, focusing on the cum on my belly and the bruises his digits left on my hips.
“I don’t want to talk about this now.”
“You don’t want to talk about this ever!” I yell in outrage. “But I deserve to know. I deserve to know why you would rather have me bear another man’s child than your own. Tell me.”
His lips curl into a snarl that sends a cold chill down my spine, making me very aware of how vulnerable I am in front of him.
“I could never father a child I knew from the start I would hate. Does that satisfy your curiosity? The mere idea of you pregnant with my child in your belly disgusts me. I would rather have my cock torn right off than ever let that happen.”
His callous, cruel words take the air out of my sails, making my legs crumble from underneath me and having me fall to the floor.
“You can’t mean that.” I shake my head, trying to push his words out by force.
“I mean every word. I’ll indulge you in this fantasy of being the mother to the next Kelly line, but that is as far as my participation in it goes. Your tears will never change my mind or how I feel. I’m sorry if I ever gave you any inclination you could change my mind on that front. It wasn’t purposely meant.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!”
“Believe me that apologizing for anything, especially something I feel so strongly against, isn’t done lightly. If ever. Take that as your win, wife, and be content in the small victory.”
“Only you would see this as a victory,” I seethe as hot tears run down my cheeks.
“It’s the only one I can give you.” He frowns, his hands fisting and releasing at his sides. “I’ll call Shay and Colin in the morning. You’ll have the life you want. I just won’t be a part of it.”
And with those words carving my chest and making me bleed onto his Persian rug, he turns his back on me and walks away.