Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

“You were a good big brother back then.”

“I hope you weren’t thinking of me being a big brother when I caught you spying on me from my doorway, watching me masturbate.”

“No, I definitely wasn’t.” My words come out as a deep sigh because I’m seeing that night in full color in my eyes.

He slides his hand down my stomach. “That’s good to know,” he breathes, and his hot breath tickles the back of my neck. “Because it would have been very sinful if you did. Because that’s one night I never wanted to forget, no matter how much I hated you.” His fingers brush along my slit, teasing me. I’m instantly wet at his touch. “I remember you in this bed as I kissed every inch of you and just how good your cunt looked sliding on my dick."

"Of course, you would go there,” I mummer letting my head loll back against his shoulder.

His fingers dip into my center. “Your pussy remembers that night, too.”

I’ve never forgotten either.

“Alex, you're not playing fair." I try to shove his hand away, but it’s no use and he pushes his fingers deeper inside of me.

“I'm not?”

"No," I groan, and thrust my hips, begging for more.

“It doesn’t help your words and your body are saying two different things.” He chuckles and kisses the side of my neck.

“Just know, I’m still irritated with you.”

“Noted. And I think we’re both past playing fair these days.” His lips hover over me. "Now, will you let me help you back to sleep this time?"

“Yes, please.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” His lips crash into mine, his kiss leaving me in a haze.

He rolls me on the mattress and breaks away from my lips to place light kisses around my cheek and over my eyes. “Open your eyes,” he whispers.

My eyes fly open, and those primal green eyes from when we fucked earlier are gone. Now they are filled with a hunger begging to cherish me.

“I want you to look at me.” He brushes both his thumbs down my cheeks. “It’s just you and me,” he says firmly. “You’re not allowed to think of anything else besides us and how I’m going to make you feel. Got it?”

I nod.

“No, say it.”

“Just you and me.” And as I say the words, it’s like everything in my mind silences.

He’s right. No one is here but him and me. No ghosts. No monsters. Only him.

He rolls off me for a moment but comes back prepped. His lips are back on me in an instant kissing me in a way he never has before. Not since the first time, but this is still different. There’s none of the aggressiveness that he usually has because he’s trying to prove his bitterness to me. It’s slow, sweet, caring, and dare I say…loving.

It’s almost as if I’m in the bed with a different guy, but I’m taking every moment I have while I can and kiss him back just the same.

He slowly sinks himself into me, my legs wrap around him, and he pulls me closer tighter to him with his arms, our bodies meshed as one.

“I love how your naked body feels pressed against me.”

There’s that word getting tossed around, and I think the first time I’ve heard him say it to me in any context since we’ve been married.

I moan, not having the words to reply, but I don’t need to as his kiss all but consumes me again. Every touch is soft, every thrust I can feel every part of him. It’s slow, with no rush to the finish line. This is the feeling I’ve been wanting between us. The connection.

Between every stroke and every kiss, this is us. There are no jokes, no dirty talk. As much as I like those things, this moment is pure, like no time and no secrets have pushed us apart.

I feel like that line between love and hate has finally been crossed. There are only a few speed bumps on the way to love.

I call his name, and he calls mine as we come together.

He collapses beside me and scoots off the bed. My eyes shut and I barely feel him as he comes back to bed and scoops me into his arms pressing my back to his chest.

I’m tired and I know, without a doubt, I’m going back to sleep without any worries. Especially, with him holding me like this.

“I left because I was confused.” His voice rings through my foggy brain. He’s talking. “You knew my sister better than I did.”

“That’s not—”

“Stop,” he grumbles, pulling me tighter to him. “When I said I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t. Listen, I went for a walk to clear my head. I called Adrian, we met up, and then I came home. But fuck, June, it changed things. I see things differently now.”

“Like what?” The silence grows and I’m convinced he’s not going to answer me. “It’s fine you don’t have to tell me.”

He sighs heavily and presses a kiss to the side of my head. “Our communication sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yep.”

We both have so much to say, yet both of us are scared to admit our truths. Knowing it will reveal all the open wounds. The wall we have built around ourselves is just begging to be torn down, but neither of us is ready to be the first to take the sledgehammer to reveal what is festering underneath.

The thing is, I don’t think it is either of us truly holding the hammer.

The quiet consumes the room and I stop my battle to trying to stay awake wondering if he’ll say more. I can no longer keep my heavy eyelids open and my limbs feel weightless. I’m seconds away from whatever dream world awaits me when