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They disagreed about plenty of things. They were husband and wife after all, but Mason never once raised his voice to her and was gentle and always in control of himself. She’d never seen him in a rage. On days that she knew he’d lost a patient on his table she did everything she could to soothe him. Sometimes it pained her to see that part of her husband that she could never quite reach. It was as if he withheld parts of himself from her, perhaps afraid if he leaned on her too heavily she might break. Perhaps he was right.
Liberty supposed everyone had secrets, but the part of him that he didn’t share with her was huge, and for that reason she always ended up crying on the nights Mason needed to be left alone to sort out his emotions. She was not made of glass, but definitely had cracks that burdened her with emotional limits. She wished he would come to her, just once, so that she could be there for him the way he was there for her. In spite of his emotional barriers Mason was a wonderful man and an even better husband. So, yes, Libby would cry at times, but in the end she would chastise herself for being selfish and a shrew for not being satisfied with all the amazing parts of him he did share.
They had a great marriage. They laughed together, enjoyed the same movies. Her passion was playing the piano and Mason loved to listen. She needed to take care of him and he needed her to make sure he didn’t walk out the door with newspaper smudges on his fingers or shaving cream in his ear. Five years together and she was very happy.
“Hello, Earth to Libby…” Liberty drew her gaze from her half-eaten pie and looked into Mason’s laughing eyes. “Where’d you go there? I was telling you something and you just zoned out.”
“Oh, I—” The sound of the phone ringing saved her from having to form an excuse. “I’ll get that. Excuse me.”
He smirked at her with raised eyebrows as she quickly removed his dish and scurried off to the kitchen.
“Whoever it is, I’m not here. I want a nice evening with my wife, a good movie, and no interruptions,” he called after her.
Libby smiled to herself in the kitchen and grabbed the phone on the third ring. “Hello?” When she heard nothing but dead air she assumed the caller hung up. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
Libby smiled and crinkled her brow at the phone. She looked at the caller ID and didn’t recognize the number. “Hi. Who is this?”
“This—” The deep voice stumbled as if searching for words, “Um… is this…is this Mrs. Davis?”
“Speaking.”
“Wife of Dr. Mason Davis?”
“Yes, this is Liberty, Mason’s wife. Can I help you?”
“Liberty.” The gravelly voice on the other end said her name slowly as if tasting the word.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“Is…Is Dr. Davis home?”
Liberty moved to the counter and grabbed the small tablet she used to write down Mason’s messages. Glancing to the clock over the double oven, she wrote the exact time and date in the upper left corner. “No, he’s not. May I take a message?”
“Do you know when you expect him back?”
Mason came into the kitchen and hugged her from behind. The act was unexpected. Her pussy clenched and her nipples grew suddenly hard. His touch always had an effect on her, but being caught off guard added a new and exciting element of arousal. The peculiarity of his caress threw her slightly off balance. With her husband, all things sexual were usually limited to their intimate encounters refined to their bedroom. Spontaneity never tempted her before and her desire for such nonsense only frustrated her now.
He nuzzled his rough chin into her shoulder. Chills chased up her spine as he kissed the flesh that peaked out from beneath the collar of her blouse.
A sense of urgency to get off the phone distracted her from the conversation with the unknown caller. Swallowing, she rasped, “He isn’t expected back until late tonight. Who shall I say was calling?” She needed to take advantage of this suddenly affectionate side of her husband before it faded.
“Please tell him Sean O’Malley called.”
She quickly jotted down the name and number the man gave then hung up the phone and turned in her husband’s arms.
“Dinner was wonderful, Lib. Thank you. You take such good care of me.”
Her lips parted as she blinked up at him, savoring the sudden ache in her breasts. So unbelievably turned on as fantasy after fantasy sprang into her sex-starved mind she could barely form words. “It’s my job to take care of you. I’m happy to do it,” she whispered.
He smiled and kissed her nose and just that quickly, like a blanket being stripped off of her body in the midst of a dreamy slumber, he emotionally disengaged from whatever had been about to happen and stepped away.
