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"Edward, did you hear what I said, boy?" G-Pa booms.
"Yes, you want the family together for Sunday lunch."Kill me already.An entire afternoon with my half-siblings is not my idea of a relaxing weekend, or a relaxing anything. Or anything approaching relaxation. The only thing I want right now is to take my wife home and find a way to make things up to her. Perhaps, she’ll allow me to hold her and sniff her hair, and if I apologize enough, she might let me bury my dick inside her tight, moist hole.
"That’s right. I expect to see the both of you there."
"I’m sorry but—" I begin but my wife interrupts me.
"Of course, G-Pa, we’ll be there."
"But—" I begin, but she scowls at me over her shoulder. Pathetic arse that I am, I’m so grateful for the fact that she acknowledges my presence—only the second time since we left the lighthouse earlier today—that I zip my lips and watch as she turns back to Arthur.
She leans over and kisses his cheek. "You should rest up. We’ll see you for Sunday lunch."
Which means, she's not planning to leave me… Yet. Which gives me time, until Sunday, to woo her back. She wanted to be dated and courted. Well, I’m going to re-invent the meaning of those words. I walk over and hold out my hand. She looks at it, then back up at me, and I’m sure she’s going to refuse, but then she places her much smaller hand in mine. The stress in my shoulders leaches out. Fucking hell, if every minute of my time is going to be spent bathed in so much tension, then I'm headed for the coronary my wife predicted when she first set eyes on me. By then, I already knew everything it was possible to know about her, but it wasn't a replacement for spending time with her. For discovering her likes and dislikes, how she wrinkles her forehead when she's thinking, how she sighs when she sips her coffee, how she makes those little moans at the back of her throat when she's aroused, how her lips thin when she's angry with me.
And yet, I can’t regret the fact that I invaded her privacy. That I watched her unobserved. That I snooped around her life. That, since I set eyes on her, I’ve made sure to have eyes on her all the time. How can I, when a part of me worries that I won't be able to prevent bad things from happening to her? Is this how it feels to love someone? When your heart feels like it’s being torn out your chest, and every time you think about how vulnerable they are, your chest tightens, your lungs burn, your pulse rate shoots through the roof and you’re sure you’re having a panic attack?
"Ed?" She squeezes my hand. "You okay?’
She called me Ed. Not Eddie. But also, not Edward. That's another sign there's a chance here for me to put things right… Right?
When I don’t reply, she grabs my collar, pulls me down, then goes up on tiptoe and kisses my lips.
59
Mira
He doesn’t kiss me back. His lips are hard, his chest unmoving. He bent enough for me to reach his mouth, but other than that, I might as well be kissing a stone. Shit, what possessed me to do this, in the first place, and when I'm so pissed off with him? I'm sure it had nothing do with that haunted look in his eyes, or the granite-hard set to his jaw, or how he looked at me like it was the last time he was seeing me. Like he expected me to run out of there and never look back.
And I was tempted, don’t get me wrong. But also, the part of me that’s responsible and dutiful and never gives up in the face of a challenge, the part of me that already loves his grandfather like my own, the part that is still attracted to him, so help me god, the part that hasn’t forgiven him for how he got me here but cannot resist the urge to be physically close to him—that part took over. Before I could talk myself out of it, I acted on the urge to take his mind off whatever he was thinking, whatever caused that despairing look in his eyes.
And now, he’s not reacting. Ugh, this is a mistake. I begin to back away, but he swoops his hand around my waist, drags me close, back on my tiptoes, and regardless of the fact his family is watching, he kisses me—not the polite peck on the lips I attempted, but a nip on my mouth until I part my lips so he can slide his tongue over mine and suck on it, and share my breath, and sip from me until I lose my balance and sway against him. At which point, he pulls me closer, wraps his arm about my waist, and announces we’re leaving.
I have just enough time to register the satisfaction on G-Pa’s face, the mild surprise on Nathan’s, and the smirk on Knox’s before we’re out of there and he's hustling me toward the car.
"What’s the hurry?"
He doesn’t reply. He merely walks me to the car, tears open the door on the passenger’s side, all but throws me in, and proceeds to snap the seatbelt around me, before he takes the driver’s seat. His door slams shut, and he grips the steering wheel, but he doesn’t start the car.
"Ed?" I ask softly. "What’s wrong?"
"What’s wrong is that you should be hating me now. You should be telling me go take a long walk off a short pier, and never set eyes on you again."
"I’m tempted," I confess.
"And yet, you kissed me."
"I, uh… G-Pa was watching, and it seemed like a good time to convince him the marriage is genuine, and you… You looked so desolate."
"Iamdesolate…without you."
I shake my head and glance away. "Don’t. Please, don’t make this more difficult."
"Whydidyou kiss me?"
"Told you already, it was all an act to convince your grandfather about the veracity of our wedding."
"Didn’t seem like an act."
