The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella (24 page)

“So don
’
t you dare make this about sex! We both lost a baby, Avery, but I
’
m losing my wife and it
’
s fucking
unbearable!
”

She clasps both hands across her mouth, in a failed attempt to mute her cry, and drops to the floor. My first instinct is to get down there with her and wrap her in my arms, but I don
’
t.
I won
’
t.
Just the thought that she could reject me one more time has me snatching up my shorts. I put them on and then head for the bedroom where I find my tennis shoes. I need to get out of here, I need to release this pent up frustration and clear my head before I do or say something I
’
ll regret. I speak not a word as I pass through the living room and slam the front door behind me.

I
’
m losing my wife and it
’
s fucking unbearable!

His words play in a loop in my head. Over and over for the next hour, I hear his words and I see his face and the shards of my already broken heart shatter. I didn
’
t see that coming. He
’
s been so gentle for so long and now
…
it
’
s as if my sight has been restored and I see the world through his eyes as well as my own.  For the first time since that awful morning, I imagine what it would be like for him not just to lose our baby, but for him
—
my husband who I know loves me dearly
—
to see
me
as I slowly transform into this woman that I can hardly stand to look at.

I
’
ve been telling myself that I don
’
t deserve his kindness or his affection or his sympathy. I
’
ve assigned all blame onto myself and forced him to accept it, but not once have I been honest with him or told him that I feel this way. As a result, I haven
’
t given him the opportunity to voice what he wants, or to tell me that he misses me or that he needs me. I
’
ve been so incredibly selfish in my grief, refusing to see his loss from any other perspective than mine. I
’
ve stubbornly neglected to see that this entire situation is multidimensional. Regardless of whether or not there is truth in my blame, I haven
’
t given him the chance to choose me anyway.

I decided that pushing him away was the best idea. I decided that it was the only way. I decided that he could handle his grief without me. I
’
ve made the choice for him. Today, I finally see how much I
’
ve been hurting him.
Me
—
now
—
and not because I lost the baby, but because I
’
ve selfishly refused to let him in.

It takes me a little while to calm down and stop crying. When I do, it
’
s his shirt that I pick up off of the floor and pull over my head. I then curl up on the couch, tucking my knees against my chest as I wait for him to return. When he walks through the door, he
’
s as silent as he was before he left. I watch him as he makes his way to the bathroom, closing himself inside, and I listen as he starts the shower.

I know what I must do. My heart, my mind, my body,
my soul
are finally on one accord. I know that it
’
s my turn to go to him. As I stand up and  make my way to the bathroom, I remove his t-shirt and my panties. I
’
m shaking by the time I
’
ve reached the door, praying that he hasn
’
t locked me out
—
literally or emotionally. I wouldn
’
t blame him if he did. I sigh in relief when the handle twists open in my trembling hand. I remind myself that everything is better when we
’
re together and then I step inside.

I run for an hour straight. Just when I think I have myself under control, when I think I
’
ve managed to reign in my temper after my fight with Avery, I walk into our apartment and it feels as if I never left. I see her sitting curled up on the couch and I can
’
t even bring myself to stop to see if she
’
s okay. Instead, I head straight for the shower, hoping my second attempt at attaining a level head will be more successful.

I stand directly beneath the shower head, my hands pressed against the wall in front of me as I let the water beat down on the back of my neck. I try and relax, but the second my mind starts to wander, all I see is Avery. I hear her in my ear, blaming herself for something that happened naturally. I can
’
t even begin to describe how horrible I feel for not confronting her sooner. I should have known better. I should have known that she would need protection from her own mind. I shouldn
’
t have assumed that I understood her grief
—
I didn
’
t. Not even close. Now, her heart is tangled in a web of lies.

I think back to the way her body looked when she stood before me, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. I can tell that she hasn
’
t been running. Even worse, I can tell that she hasn
’
t been eating as much as she should. I know we need to focus on getting her healthy again, physically, mentally, and spiritually. No matter how bad things may seem right now, I tell myself that I will help her get through this. I hope, more than anything, that her healing journey will help fix what is broken between the two of us as well.

I miss my girl
—
I miss her so much.

For the umpteenth time this morning, I feel myself growing hard just thinking about touching her. There
’
s a voice in the back of my head, coaxing me to do what I have to do. I can
’
t even remember the last time I got myself off. Just thinking about it both angers and disgusts me. I made a promise to stay faithful to my wife; we agreed, the only hands allowed to make me come are hers. I smack my palm against the tiled wall, frustrated in more ways than one.

I don
’
t hear it when she opens the door. I don
’
t hear it when she sneaks around the shower curtain. I don
’
t hear her at all, which is why my head jerks up when I realize she
’
s behind me.

My body goes stalk still at the feel of her small, trembling hands sliding around my waist. I gasp when I feel her lips press against my spine. She kisses me once, then once more, and then I feel it as her body begins to shake to the beat of her cry.

“I
’
m sorry,
”
she mumbles against my back.
“
I
’
m so sorry.
”

I turn around, her hands never leaving my skin as I do. When I am facing her, she feels her way up my chest before she curls her fingers around my neck, beckoning me closer. I surrender to her pull and wrap her in my arms. She holds on tight and I notice that it
’
s not just her hands that are trembling, but her whole body. I pull her even closer, not sure if I
’
ll ever be able to let go.

“I
’
m sorry, too. I love you. I love you so much, Ave.
”

“I love you.
”
She kisses the side of my neck and then just below my jaw.
“
I love you,
”
she repeats, her lips grazing my skin.
“
I love you.
”

I angle my head so that my lips are in reaching distance of hers. I want to taste her so badly, but I know this is her moment. She
’
s in control here and I
’
m more than happy to be on the receiving end of everything she
’
s willing to give. She traces her nose along mine and I can hardly breathe. The groan that catapults from my throat the second her lips find mine can
’
t be silenced. Her kiss is barely recognizable as such, and yet it seems to send a shockwave through my entire body. When she kisses me again, this time with a little more force, I can no longer hold back.

I slip my fingers behind her neck, burying them in her hair as I tilt her head for easier access to what I want. I trace my tongue along her lips, begging for entrance into her sweet, hot mouth. The second my tongue sweeps over hers, she whimpers. The small sound goes straight to my dick and I kiss her deeper still. She melts against me and I trail one of my hands down her back and around her waist, pulling her even closer. When she doesn
’
t fight me, my last bit of restraint vanishes. I hold her tight around her middle, lifting her from her feet. She wraps her legs around me as I press her back against the wall. I
’
m so turned on, I feel like I might burst.

“God, Avery
—
you feel so good,
”
I mutter, dragging my lips to her neck.

She tangles her fingers in my hair and grips two fistfuls before she whispers in my ear
—“
Fuck me, Grayson.
”

I pull away abruptly, my eyes locked with hers in an instant.

“It
’
s okay.
”
Her face lights up with a blush
—
sweet Lord, I missed that blush
—
but her eyes hold an unwavering determination.
“
I know you need to.
”

“Ave,
”
I barely manage, still stunned by her demand.

“Do it, Sonny. I want you to. Just fuck me.
”

Hearing it a second time fuels my need for her even more. It
’
s the dirtiest thing she
’
s ever said to me
—
and she sure as hell doesn
’
t have to say it again.
“
Are you ready for me, gorgeous?
”
I ask, my fingers seeking out her core. I brush against her clit before I insert one finger, and then two.

“Grayson,
”
she sighs.

As she props her forehead against mine, I pull my fingers out of her and
—
in one, hard thrust
—
I fill her with my dick until I
’
m balls deep. She
’
s so warm, soft, and tight, tighter than I remember. My eyes roll back of their own accord and I know I
’
m not going to last long. I pause only for a moment, stretching her open. My starved cock drives me and I pump in and out of her pussy wildly and without restraint. She gasps, whimpers, and moans and my ecstasy steals the breath from my lungs as my balls begin to tighten.