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“I know,” he said, his voice muffled as he situated himself between my thighs.
He reached beneath me, yanked down my panties, and then returned to the apex of my thighs as if he’d been starving for me all day.
My knees involuntarily quivered, and I moaned his name along with a few inappropriate religious references.
He kissed my thighs and then my stomach, gazing up at me with a proud smirk. He barely gave me a chance to recover before he was crawling up my body and staring into my eyes as he slowly sank himself inside of me.
Those were the times I was glad that he was unable to restrain himself. I’d only had an idea of what Travis had been like with other women, but with me, he didn’t hold back. He’d let me peel away all his layers, to see every weakness—I was one of them, and it no longer felt like a bad thing.
Neither one of us knew before the day we’d met that we were both waiting for the other to come along, and in that moment, in the cafeteria of a tiny college, our lives began.
There was nobeforeorafter.
Travis knew from the beginning that we had always been, and we would always be. That truth was finally in his eyes, in the way looked at me, the way he was gazing at me in that moment as he hovered just inches from my face.
“Oh my fuck… Pidge,” he breathed. He looked at me in awe, the exact expression that was on his face the first time he made love to me—and every time after—as if he were still surprised at how perfect and amazing I felt.
He worked agonizingly slow, paying attention to every part of my skin. Even after an hour had passed, Travis didn’t skip a beat.
My muscles were trembling with fatigue and, although he refused to pick up the pace, I was unable to catch my breath. The longer we were tangled together, the more I needed him. I felt insatiable, easily seducing Travis over and over, from one climax to the next until we were both exhausted.
I lay on my stomach, peeking from my pillow at my husband who was doing the same. Our pinkies were crossed over one another, the sheet haphazardly draped over a small section of our backsides. My skin was glistening with sweat, my eyes heavy, and my hair tangled all around me.
Travis’s free hand was above his head, twirling a caramel strand of my hair.
We didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. Everything each of us needed to hear had been said.
We were saturated with one another, the air filled with sex, love, and satisfaction, but more importantly, the confidence in the knowledge that no matter what obstacles were put in our path, we both knew the other would stay.
And there was no love deeper, more precious than that.
Chapter Fourteen
Twisted
Travis
ISCREWED THE COLD METALof my wedding ring around my finger as I stared into the Iron E gym from the parking lot. It was Monday, cold, and it was shit fucking weather.
Spring was making its presence known, the rain clouds above pissing all over my car, the raindrops bouncing off the pavement in a hundred thousand tiny splashes. And, if I wasn’t in a bad enough mood, I had to act like I didn’t want to murder Brandon Kyle just for breathing in my direction.
I turned off the ignition and grabbed the wheel, pressing my head against the headrest. I was nearly late. It had been a challenge for Abby and me to coordinate our schedules to get everywhere we needed to go with just one vehicle, especially on the days it was raining. Today, though, I had a bigger problem.
Perkins Plaza nearly surrounded me with boutiques, a golf equipment store, a small organic foods store, a nail salon, a coffee shop, and in the center, Iron E gym. Every building matched, painted white with each store’s name in simple black letters.
It reminded me of the old generic groceries Dad would buy when I was a kid. Now it meantmodern.
The thick, gray clouds outside made people walking around inside the gym under the fluorescent lights more visible. They were lifting, spotting, or running on one of the fifteen treadmills. Brandon was behind the front desk, nuzzling the receptionist’s neck with his nose.
I clenched my teeth. To be honest, I didn’t get the appeal.
Brandon stood just shy of six feet but had a thickness that made him look stubby. His body was ill proportioned, and although he worked out, it looked like the muscle he had was residual from a year ago or more.
His brown eyes always had too much white around them when he talked, making him look crazy, and his ridiculous hair, even crazier. He kept it too long, used too much gel to make it stand too far off his head. He looked like a washed-up Disney villain.
I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to be seen with him, much less work for him.
Eakins had plenty of flexible jobs for college students. The problem was that it was nearing mid-April, and most of the jobs that were still somehow available were only meant to support a weekend partying habit, not a married couple.
