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I don’t know how to be a husband. Husbands and wives sleep in the same bed, so I made that happen even though it almost gave me away. Husbands and wives fuck, but now I’m second guessing that. I even put on pajamas when no self-respecting man would wear satin pjs and still have his own balls attached. My father’s idea, and his demand for me to make this happen, was starting to seem an impossibility. Me trying to be a husband is not working, and I’m not sure I can pull this off. I’ve never even been in a long-term relationship before. I haven’t lived with a woman, and I sure as fuck haven’t gone to bed with one unless we had fucked ourselves into oblivion.
I still lay on top of Daphne as we both regain our normal breathing, the bulk of my body crushing her tiny frame as the weight of the world crushes against me. This wasn’t planned. This wasn’t what’s supposed to happen. She’s my brother’s wife. Not mine.
Wasmy brother’s wife.
Was.
Yes, we have to remain married. I need to be a husband when I don’t even know what the fuck that means. I know I need her in my life to keep this ruse alive, but boundaries have to be set. I owe it to my brother. I do. I had no intentions of fucking her and actually enjoying it. That muddies the waters. That turns them pitch fucking black.
Did I just betray my brother while he’s not even in his grave yet?
Rolling off of her, I stand up and quickly dress in these ridiculous pajamas again. I don’t want to look at Daphne lying on my brother’s living room floor, no doubt looking sexier than she ever has to me before. So. Fucking. Hot. And she tasted so damn good. I’d be lying if I tried to deny the worst, fucking filthiest truth…
The woman does something to me, and as my cock twitches again for round two, I reach for her nightgown and toss it to her, still avoiding looking at her again.
There is a hard truth about what just happened.
I took Daphne against her will.
She did not consent.
She did not willingly and consensually have sex with me…Ares.
She called out my brother’s name as we fucked. Not mine.
I’ve killed, tortured, lied, and stolen in my lifetime. I’ve never claimed to be a good man. But nothing has ever been worse than what I’ve done to her just now, and what I’m most likely going to do again. Because one thing is for sure…there’s something about this woman that makes me want to sin.
“I’m sorry if things got carried away,” I say, though there is a sick truth I’m struggling with. I loved every damn moment of what just happened. Wrong or not, I took her, and I want to take her again, and again, and again.
But for now, I need to resist. I need to allow the obsession to ease so I can think clearly.
“Don’t apologize. I liked it,” she says as she holds the nightgown against her chest, not getting dressed yet. “I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise when I said ‘demanding’ or whatever.”
I decide to take a risk by bringing up the past, when I know nothing for sure. “I’m aware we’ve been distant. I know we’ve both needed space.” I hope these are words that Apollo would say.
In the corner of my eye, I see her fiddling with her nightgown with a facial expression I can’t read. I’m sure there are a million things running through her head. They sure as hell are running through mine. Deciding to man up and stop being such a fucking coward by not looking at her and not giving her the respect of my full attention, I put out my hand to help her stand. Still clutching her gown to cover her breasts—her delicious and luscious breasts—she takes my hand and allows me to assist her off the floor.
Her big brown eyes meet mine. So wide. So innocent. So full of questions. Questions I don’t have answers for. It isn’t hard to see that Daphne is not the type to just casually have sex. It’s also clear she and my brother were not actively having sex. I know she isn’t that type of girl to simply fuck without a thought, and therefore, what just happened between us is most likely fucking her up as much as it is me.
“We should probably get to bed,” she says softly, being the first to break our stare. “We have a long and hard day tomorrow.”
Releasing the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, I say, “Yes, sleep sounds good.”
I should hold her, whisper sweet nothings. Give her praise. Isn’t that what good husbands do? I do none of those, however.
Without saying another word, she rushes out of the room, her nightgown still not on, her bare ass still on display, and her dignity leaving in tatters.
I’m an asshole.
I know this much. But was my brother an asshole?
Does she expect a kind man or a jerk?
How do I do this? How do I become my brother without betraying his memory and without breaking his wife?
ChapterEight
Apollo
