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She barely manages the word, "Us," loud enough for me to hear.
But I do. It registers in my brain, and it gives me a spike of hope. But it's just a small glimmer. The rest of my fears are too strong. I declare, "I don't believe you."
She argues in a hoarse tone, "No, Riggs. Us! Oh…God…us. Oh, oh!"
But the thought I'll wake up one day and she'll be gone never stops terrorizing me. Once upon a time, I knew she was mine. Now everything is in question.
I won't survive if she leaves me.
I'll die. There won't be a point of going on.
Fuck, what am I thinking?
It's the truth.
I lift my head and hold her face. Gritting out, "I need you to want us."
"I-I, oh God," she cries out, her eyes rolling as another wave of convulsions attacks her body.
It finishes me off. I grit through my teeth, muttering, "Fuuuuck!" as adrenaline erupts like fireworks, making my vision blurry. I pump everything I have into her, thrusting faster as her body squeezes my shaft.
All I want is for her to remember how we are together. How we're beyond good sex or two people with chemistry.
Does she not realize what we have isn't something you forget about or toss away? That you don't go looking to change it?
She begins moaning so loud King Madden barks.
I barely hear him.
A sound I've never heard before flies past her lips. Vicious convulsions hit her at a new level. Liquid pools between us, soaking the mattress, as I continue pumping into her. When I can't fill her anymore, and our bodies slow, I stare at her, hating the anxiety building in my chest.
She's made me vulnerable. I loathe her putting me through this. I detest I've allowed myself to get to this point, but I don't know what to do about it.
Neither of us moves. Our gazes continue being pinned on the other.
King Madden jumps on the lounger, whining, but we ignore him, locked in a challenging stare.
He curls against her hip, and the chaos turns to calm in her blues. Yet it does nothing to reassure me. The overwhelming sensation she'll leave me is a knife slicing my heart. And it's already too damaged. I've become a weak man, and I'm unsure how to strengthen him.
My mouth turns dry, and the waves crash on the shoreline, getting louder as I return to reality. I roll off my wife and rise, admitting more things I never thought I'd say. "You need to decide what you want. Only one person is holding the cards in this relationship. And I can assure you, it's not me. It's you."
She gapes at me.
My heart continues slamming into my chest. My gut dives further and further.
She declares, "Riggs, stop. This... You're not—"
"I'm only going to be played with for so long, pet," I state, turn off the shower, and go inside.
I'd do anything to quiet the fear inside me. I knew she was too good for me the moment I first noticed her. She was only eighteen, a mere child. But I knew it then, and I know it now.
Blakely's in full control of what happens between us. For the first time in my life, I have no power over my relationship. And as much as I've tried to resume my authority, I can't seem to.
Normally I'd manipulate the situation to get what I want. She would be mine. She would always be mine. But as hard as it is, my gut's stopping me. It won't allow me to go to the extreme lengths I normally would to ensure that everything in my life happens as I desire.
Deep down, the truth screams too loud to shut off. If she doesn't want me, then I'm going to have to accept it.
The hardest thing I'll ever do is figure out how to walk away.
