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Besides, there was plenty I could do with them on, wasn’t there? I licked Effie through the fabric until she was hoarse and breathless. I rubbed her to orgasm, over and over andover. Until the fabric was soaked and my tongue was sore.
We’d argued earlier in the night too at Original Sin, about something stupid like punctuality or automated email replies. I guess we glimpsed it on those security tapes. And I rememberthatrow because she pretended to care then too, but later on in this room she fought so much harder for me to get her naked and claim her.
The last time I brought Effie off with my mouth, she thrashed so hard she tore her pillow at the seams. Then we both lay on our backs on the bed, giddy and laughing, our hands held tight as it snowed white feathers all around.
“Guy.” She’s standing in front of me, cheeks pale. So worried for me when all I’ve done for Effie is cause her trouble. I’ve crossed so many lines I swore I never would.
She plucks the pamphlets and wedding photos from my rigid grip. Sets them next to hers on the sideboard, then comes back and places a cool hand on my cheek.
God.
My groan is dredged from the bottom of my soul. I have no right, but I clap a hand over Effie’s and hold her in place; tilt my head and press harder into her palm. The band of her wedding ring digs into my cheekbone, and I’m glad of it. I want that reminder that she was briefly mine.
“Guy, you’re scaring me.”
That’s the last thing I want to do. Ever. “I’m sorry.”
Effie scoffs. “Shut up.” Then she’s pushing up onto her toes. Pressing a chaste kiss against my other cheek. “I care about you,” she murmurs, her lips still so close. Her breath is warm. “That’s all.”
That’s all? As if that’s noteverything.And it’s too much: the last thread of my control snaps. I move quickly, gripping Effie’s wrist and spinning her around, pressing her against the wall as I apparently love to do. My leg slots between her thighs, and sheletsme do this; she even tilts her head back, her pupils blown wide.
Like she welcomes me. Like she’s waiting for my kiss.
First thing’s first.
“I don’t want a divorce.” I spread my hand over Effie’s chest so I can feel her racing heartbeat. It’s galloping along, tripping extra fast like mine. “Let’s do something else first. What do people normally do to save their marriage? Let’s do couple’s therapy. Let’s take dancing classes.”
Her laugh is weak. “You in dancing classes? You would hate that, Mr Coltrane.”
“Guy.” I press more firmly on her chest, feeling her heartbeat drum against my palm. “Your husband’s name is Guy. Remember?”
Effie blows out a shaky breath, and I wait, stomach in knots. This wasn’t a great proposal. I’m still a little wrecked from last night, and it’s been a hell of a day. I’ve barely eaten, and now I’m fighting for the love of my life. Give a man a break.
“I work for you,” Effie says slowly. “Does this mean I’m fired?”
“No.” God, my chest hurts. “Of course not. You can assist someone else in the company if you like. Or apply for one of our open roles. Or look for a job elsewhere, and I’ll give you a glowing reference. Look, Effie, I don’t mind what you do, all I want is you in my bed and my home and my life. But if,” I draw in a breath that burns my lungs, “if you don’t want this, that’s okay. It won’t affect your job. I’ll put that in writing.”
I mean it. I’ll be normal for her even if it kills me.
Effie hums, chewing on her bottom lip. She’s been quiet for so long.
“Talk to me,” I beg. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I’m dying here.”
“I’m thinking…” She grips my belt loops and tugs my hips flush to hers. Heat crawls up my neck, and then I’m grinding against her like an animal. Gulping for breath. “I’m thinking dance classes sound fun.”
No they don’t, but I don’t care. I’d do anything to make her smile. Anything.
So… that’s it? We’re staying married?
I grip a handful of hair, rougher than I have any right to be, but her pleased gasp tells me she likes it. “You’re mine? Effie, say it. Tell me you’re mine.”
Her eyelids flutter. I squeeze my handful of dark silk, and let out a groan when she says it: “I’m yours, Mr Coltrane.”
Effie
The growl that rises up Guy’s throat sends shivers racing over my skin. And when he reaches between us, lifting my skirt up, up, up, dragging my whole dress over my head, I let him. I raise my arms, my heart rapping out a drum solo in my chest.
“You’re mine too, by the way.” As cool, air conditioned air wafts over my puffy nipples, I want it on the record.
