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More interesting is that I discovered I love it.

Surrendering to him. Belonging to him. Letting him draw pleasure from me, and for me.

“I guess I’m not going to divorce you yet.” I roll on to my stomach, teasing him as I kiss his shoulder.

“As if that was an option.” He slaps my ass.

The burn is delicious. “Of course, it’s an option.”

Silence filled with anticipation wraps around us. This time, it’s not our bodies that crave release; it’s our hearts and souls. Unsaid words, the need for commitment clings between us, stifling the air.

“I married you even after you hacked my feed. Even after I learned I don’t need my trust fund?” I repeat my question from earlier.

One that got sidetracked by my need to connect with him physically. I wanted to have sex with him because I hoped my body would remember how it felt.

While the sensations were mind-blowing, I’m still unsure how I used to feel about this man.

He sighs. “You stayed because you wanted to give us a real try.”

I lift my gaze to him. The torment in his eyes sucks oxygen from my lungs. I groan and turn on to my back, creating a distance I so desperately want to bridge. I don’t want to be hurting this man.

He turns to me abruptly like he’s going to pounce, but he stops himself, plopping back onto the mattress with another heavy sigh.

I wish he’d pounce. I wish he would cover my body with his. Trap me so I can’t escape into the void my mind has been.

At the same time, I’m grateful he didn’t pounce. He’s giving me space, but with more space, more doubts spring, and the endless cycle of uncertainty consumes me.

“And I didn’t even deserve it.” His voice is gruff. “You stayed, despite me being a bully who tried to control everything in our relationship. You wanted to give us a try. Maybe all of this happened because it was the wrong choice.”

He sits up. “But at least you needed me then. And I still failed to protect you. I still failed…”

He draws his legs closer to himself and rests his arms over his knees, his head bowed.

My heart… my very confused heart squeezes, his words searing my throat like I was the one pushing them out. A tear rolls down my cheek.

“And now, you came out of that horrible night stronger than ever, and I’m fucking lost and consumed by hope and fear. I hate it. I hate it so much, and still… still, it’s the only place I want to be.”

I push to sit beside him. “You said you love me,” I croak, and he looks at me bewildered. “It’s not just hope and fear you feel then.” I give him a small smile, my heart breaking.

Breaking with my inability to give him reassurance. To console this strong man who was brought down to his knees. Who dared to bare himself, and whose confession opened wounds inside me. And in some strange way, I know that it started the healing process as well.

His arms drop to his sides.

On my next breath, I feel his pinkie touching mine.

It may just be an accidental brush, but as if it were a lifeline, I hook my finger with his.

Our heads turn in sync. Our eyes meet. Our bodies lean toward each other.

I don’t think any of those movements are premeditated, but they just happen, like some invisible force draws us together.

“Maybe tonight was me giving us a real try?” The words barely make it out, my throat hurting with emotions.

He smiles and leans in to kiss me. The kiss grows languid and lazy, both of us exhausted from the sex marathon but unwilling to interrupt the tender sensual bond.

When I almost yawn into Corm’s mouth, he chuckles and gets on his back, and pulls me to him, arranging me on top of him. “Good night, The Morrigan.”

“I can’t sleep like this.” I slide to his side but wrap my leg over his. “That’s better.”