Page 45 of Asylum
Something deep inside me aches for Andrew. He’s upset, and it bothers me that as his wife, I don’t know what to do. He went to bed without eating, and all I did was pick at my food until I finally got up, throwing it into the trash. A deep loneliness settled in my chest as I took a shower and slipped into bed.
He was harsh before leaving the kitchen, but he’s probably stressed, and my situation isn’t making things any easier.
I should go to him, shouldn’t I?
My memories of our previous relationship may be nonexistent, but I have feelings for him now, and I want to soothe whatever has him so stressed.
Untangling myself from the blanket, I pad across the floor, slipping from the bedroom. The hall is dark, but there is a faint stream of light peeking from underneath his door. My nerves have me on the verge of running back to my room, but I stand firm as I raise my knuckles to the wood, knocking softly.
“Come in,” he calls.
Opening the door, I enter his room, and all the air rushes from my lungs. He’s sitting up in bed, relaxed against the headboard, the blanket pulled up to his waist. He’s shirtless, and my mouth waters as I take in his toned chest and abdomen, ridges defining his muscular upper body. His hair is damp from a shower, his tanned skin flushed, most likely from scalding his knotted muscles.
“Did you need something, Lilly?” He interrupts my thoughts.
My body trembles with awareness, my core aching for friction and pressure. I clear my throat. “Which room wasourroom?”
He blinks as if my question caught him off guard. “The one you’re sleeping in. Why?”
His eyes darken as I approach his side of the bed. Gripping the edge of the blanket, I pull it back, grateful he’s wearing a pair of briefs. It’d be extremely awkward if he’d been naked.
He doesn’t speak as I take his hand, tugging him up. He obliges, following me out of the room, as I lead him toourbedroom.
Letting go of his hand, I climb into bed, my body vibrating with nerves. Pulling back the blanket, I watch him as he gazes at me from the doorway. “I’d like for you to stay in here with me.”
He tilts his head. “Why, little doll?”
My stomach sinks. “You don’t have to. I just thought maybe-”
He stalks to the side of the bed, gripping my chin with his fingers. “Tell me why, Lilly.”
“Something is bothering you, and I’m your wife. You should be in here with me.”
I gasp as he places his palm on my chest, pushing me down onto the mattress. He crawls over me, and I bite back a moan as his weight pins me for a brief moment before he shifts onto his side. Desire for my husband hits me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly I can’t think of anything other than his body pressed against mine.
He grips my waist with one hand, rolling me onto my side to face him. My breath quickens as our lips hover a few inches apart.
“Bad day, little doll,” he whispers.
“Do you want to talk about it? Is there anything I can do?” He watches my mouth as I speak, and as I try to be a good wife, and console my husband, every thought running through my mind begins and ends with his hands on me.
He shifts closer, and my thighs clench as the scent of his spicy body wash fills my lungs. “Areyouokay? You seem tense.” His lips brush my jaw, the light touch torturous.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“Hmmm.” He hums, sending a shiver down my spine. “Do you want to kiss me, Lilly?” I nod my head, and he smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing to me. “I’m all yours.”
I don’t give my brain time to come up with some logical reason why I shouldn’t rush this.
Andrew is mine, and I want him.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to his. His grip tightens on my hip, as his other hand snakes around my neck, fisting the hair at the base of my skull. His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and as I open for him, his chest rumbles with a sound somasculine, I melt against him. He pushes me onto my back, and I moan as he settles his weight between my thighs, caging me in with his forearms on either side of my head. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”
His words make my chest ache. How the hell I ever forgot this feeling is beyond me. Sadness threatens to consume me with all the things I don’t remember.
He pulls away, searching my face. “Do you want me?”
A pang of guilt twists in my gut, hating that I made him doubt how I feel. “Yes.”