Page 77 of Merging Wright

I take him as deep as I can.

He goes off, coating my throat. Drinking him in, my eyes water from both the effort and emotion. I adore Mach. Like really adore him. The danger is more than losing a few months of my life to this marriage charade. Mach could do more damage than any other man because I’m at risk of losing my heart to him.

35

Playlist: “Heartbeat Song” – Kelly Clarkson

[Mach]

My wife is a dream. She’s fire in the bedroom and flames outside of it. With one project down, we have so many to go, but I heard what she said the other night about missing dates.

Brushing back her hair, I hold it at her nape while she stands before me. God bless this trimming chair.

“We should go out.”

“Like on a date?” The spark in those blue eyes matches the color on the flag hanging on the wall, highlighting white stars, and it’s the exact reaction I want from her.

“Sure.”

“Where?” Jane chews her lip.

I’m learning that habit is not only when she disagrees with me but when she’s uncertain of herself. Kind of like my non-blinking thing she calls me out on. I hold still when I want to impart truth as much as avoid conflict.

“Trophy’s is really the only local place for dinner, but we could head to Charleston for something fancy. Or we could do a day date, like hiking, biking, or even camping.” I haven’t gone camping in years. The weather is shifting, but we could probably figure something out.

“A day date?” Jane’s brows lift. A hint of excitement lifts her voice.

“Yeah, like going out and doing something during the daylight hours,” I explain.

She plays with the collar of my shirt. Her gaze lowering to where her fingers stroke along my throat.

“I haven’t really had many of them.”

She’d told me about Ripley. They worked. They fucked. They didn’t go out much.

“Then it’s a date. Thursday, we do something during the day. No work. All play. Just us.”

As Jane’s smile grows, her face lights up, and my heart beats faster than it did moments ago when she had my dick deep in her throat. The sensation creeping over my body is unfamiliar and almost better than the orgasm she gave me. Almost. Still, something warming and kind of nice covers my skin and has my insides shaky. I sound like a teenager. I feel like one again, and then it hits me.

The emotion is the same but different.

Young heartbeats don’t match older ones, Ma said.

Was I falling in love with Jane? I couldn’t be in love with my wife. We were only having sex. We had an arrangement, an agreement, a mission to complete. But as I stare at Jane before me, my hands in her hair, holding her neck, nothing about us is neatly arranged or agreed upon. We are a chaotic mess, and for once, I don’t want to organize or categorize what’s before me.

I just want Jane as she is.

+ + +

Midmorning on Thursday, we head out for the date I have planned. Once inside the old truck, Jane asks a question that’s been on my mind.

“Who fixed this up?” Her hand coasts over the restored leather bench seat. The interior has a new car smell overlapping haunting fragrances I can’t seem to rid from my nose. River water. Rust. And another girl’s perfume which was distinctly different from the passenger presently beside me.

“I don’t know.” I haven’t asked Ma, and she hasn’t offered, but I have a suspicion who restored this beast. The bigger question is why? Why would he do this other than to torture me?

Jane watches me. She wants to ask more. Instead, she questions something else. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” I smile, pleased to surprise her.