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Electricity sparked up my arm. And from the hitch in her breath I knew she felt it too.
I led her back out the door, down the path to my gym.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
As we walked I became exceedingly aware of how good Becka’s hand felt in mine. It fitted perfectly. The instant she clasped mine I felt… content. I didn’t recognized it at first; it had been so long since something gave me that feeling. Her touch was exhilarating. I wanted more. I wanted to feel her hands running over my body almost as much as I wanted to touch hers.
I opened the gym door and she gasped. “Wow. This is amazing.”
“It used to be a green house. I had no use for it so I turned it into a gym. I like being able to work out at home.” Which was typically before I went to the club in the evening, or early in the morning after getting a few hours of sleep.
“You have everything. It’s literally like a mini gym.” Her gaze skipped around the room with excitement.
Cardio equipment, dumbbells, kettlebells, machines, bench press, cross fit equipment and a punching bag; my gym had anything she could need. “Now you can work out every day if you want to.”
She turned to me. “Thank you, Luca.”
“Your welcome.” It came out rough and unfeeling. I wasn’t used to praise from someone like her. It was the most genuine appreciation I ever received from a woman. It slashed at me like a knife, instinct made me pull away. As if somehow I would bleed weakness if I accepted her thankfulness with too much enthusiasm.
I cleared my throat. “Lets go back. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll cook us some dinner.”
“Did you say cook?” she asked, shock making her head jerk back.
My smile was huge. I motioned to the door as I held it open for her.
Becka took one last lingering gaze at the room.
As I let the hot water run over my body it did very little to relax me. I was dreading dinner. Not the cooking part, but what normally happens when two people have dinner together.
They talk.
She was going to ask questions, personal ones; about my person, about my past. Of course she would want to know about me. The problem was, I didn’t divulge my past to anyone. Anytime I talked about anything personal I got a churning in my gut. It fucked with my mind.
But what am I supposed to do? Never have a real conversation with her? She’s my wife, chained to me for the rest of her life. Becka deserved some civility, no matter how strong my instincts insisted I deny her.
I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. My stomach had already turned to acid. My mood darkening with every minute.
