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It’s a strange feeling, part of me is relieved and glad to see him making such an effort.

But another part of me feels as if I’m holding him on a tight leash and stopping him from living.

I need to get over this fear because this isn’t helping any of us.

I want to trust my husband again, the way I trusted him before.

Tonight, Silas decided we would try something new for dinner, homemade pizzas from scratch. We made the dough earlier and it seems to be good, but kneading it and stretching it out are clearly not my strong suit.

I’ve made at least three holes in my dough that I’ve tried to cover up, and instead of it being round, it looks more like a star.

I’m irritated that I can’t get the hang of something so simple, but Silas seems to find it quite comical.

His pizza, on the other hand, looks like it was made by a five-star chef. How is this guy perfect at everything?

After Silas fixes my pizza and we’ve put on our toppings, he throws them in the oven and grabs a bottle of wine. He uncorks it and fills me a glass, then pours himself a glass of water.

“You’re not having one with me?” I ask, eyeing his glass of water that he sips from.

He simply shakes his head and looks away in shame. Oh, baby...

“You haven’t touched anything since that night.” It’s meant to be a question but comes out as a statement. I know he hasn’t.

“I can’t, Minnie. Just thinking about drinking fucks with my head. I tried, the other day I grabbed a beer in my hotel room after calling you, then I just sat there for an hour staring at it and feeling like shit.” He puts down his glass and rubs his face.

“Silas, one glass isn’t going to get you drunk. And it’s not like you’re out there alone, you’re here with me.” I step up to him and place my hand on his biceps.

“I don’t want to risk it. What if I have a glass now and everything’s fine, so I end up having one while away and then another… no. I won’t take the chance in fucking up even more.” He shakes his head.

I let out a deep sigh, knowing I won’t be able to convince him on this. And I won’t admit that I’m happy about this, but I do feel it. I’m proud of him through it all. I bring my glass to the sink and pour it out.

“Baby, what are you doing!?” He tries to stop me, but it’s too late, it’s already down the drain.

“If you aren’t drinking, then I won’t either. At least not around you. If it’s what you need to feel better about everything, then I’ll support you through it.” I reach up and begin to wrap my arms around his neck as he lowers to wrap his around my body.

“Thank you,” he whispers into my ear and squeezes harder.

“We’re in this together.” My lips graze his neck, and then I press a feather-light kiss to the sensitive skin.

At first, I’m afraid it was too light for him to feel, but then his body instantly goes rigid in my grasp.

I feel his heartbeat grow as well, and his erection that’s slowly pressing more and more into my stomach.

I don’t let go, if anything, I press myself deeper into my husband, wanting to feel him. Needing to feel him.

His hand comes up to my hair and grabs a fistful as my head falls back on a moan, and I close my eyes. I miss his touch. When nothing else happens, I slowly open my eyes and find him staring at me with lust-filled eyes, but also fear.

His hold in my hair loosens, and he clears his throat, breaking eye contact and looking over to the oven. “The pizzas should be ready.”

He lets go of me completely and rises to his full height, stepping back. My hands fall from his neck and to my sides as I watch him retreat to the oven. Well, that didn’t go how I wanted.

Our dinner turns out pretty good for first-timers and the rest of the evening goes amazingly well too, but Silas doesn’t take the hint once, no matter how touchy I am. He always seems to have an excuse to move away. It’s beginning to bother me and make me feel a bit self-conscious.

After lying on the couch together and wiggling nonstop to get his attention, to which he decides at that moment that he needs to get a snack from the kitchen, I lose my patience .

“Do you not want me anymore?” I can’t help the shakiness in my voice, my eyes welling with tears at the thought that maybe my husband’s feelings have changed.

He stops abruptly and spins in my direction, eyes full of fire.

He breathes hard but doesn’t say anything as he strides over to his phone on the coffee table, picking it up and tapping on it with violent fingers.

But still, he doesn’t answer me. I feel the tears about to spill over the longer he makes me wait.

Suddenly he turns off the TV, ending the movie that was playing while the lighting in the room changes to a soft flow of colors, transitioning from one to the other. The sound system turns on, and ‘ You are the Reason’ by Calum Scott starts playing.

He turns to me and grabs my hand, yanking me up and taking me to the center of the living room. I’m too stunned to move, so he takes my hand and places it around his neck, keeping the other in his grasp. He places his free hand against my lower back, pulling me flush against him.

“Listen to the lyrics, Cecilia.” I don’t need to. I know the song. But he still gives me the time to hear them. “That’s how I feel about you. You are everything to me. There is no one , nothing , in this world that I want more than you.”

“Then why won’t you touch me?” I ask on a soft cry as the tears finally spill out.

He lets go of our clasped hands and brings his to cradle the side of my face, brushing the tears away as mine move to his chest. “Because I’m scared if I do, I won’t know how to stop.

And I’m afraid you aren’t ready yet,” he whispers with his forehead resting against mine, his lips a hair’s length away from my own.

“I don’t want you to stop, Silas.” I pull him in and fuse my lips to his in a powerful kiss.

His arm encircles my waist and he hoists me up against his body, the other tangling into my hair. Teeth clanging against each other, tongues wrestling one another. It’s messy, sloppy, and frantic, but we need this.

“Please, Silas. I need you,” I breathe between kisses as we continue making love with our mouths.

He doesn’t grant me an answer, simply marches toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Milo rushes behind us, but Silas kicks our bedroom door in his face before he has time to get in.

“Sorry, bud. Later,” he tells him and carries me to the bed.

He puts me down and climbs over me, never breaking our kiss. I’ve missed the taste of him and can’t get enough. We only break apart for the time it takes to remove my shirt and bra while I take off his, kissing in between each movement.

Silas gets to his knees and tugs my jeans off, and once they’re past my ankles, I rise and unbutton his pants. Grabbing them by the waist, I push them down along with his boxers. He goes to spread my legs and squeeze his wide torso between my thighs, but I stop him as I try to pull him up to me.

“No, Silas. I just want you. Now, please. I need to feel you.”

He doesn’t need more persuasion than that. He climbs up my body, settling between my thighs, and begins kissing me all over. There’s no need for foreplay, my body is already ready for him.

He grabs the head of his shaft, positioning himself to slowly nudge my entrance, inch by delicious inch making its way into my tight channel. I moan into his mouth, feeling myself stretch around him.

I missed this. I missed him.

It feels like the first time all over again, the pain, the emotions running wild. How we can’t seem to let go of each other. Needing to touch, to hold, to kiss.

Once he’s fully seated, he lets out a pained groan, matching my whimpers as I remember the unbelievable size of my husband. “Oh God, Minnie. I missed you so much, I love you. Fuck, I love you. I won’t last long,” he mutters against my neck.

I pull his head back and kiss his lips. “I love you too, Silas. I love you so much. I don’t need you to last long, I’m right there with you.”

We seal our mouths together once more as he pulls all the way out and pushes back in roughly. I cry out, my walls clenching around him. I’m already so close. He does it again and again. Offering more powerful thrusts every time.

Soon, I come loudly on a cry, screaming his name while he continues to pound into me over and over.

He’s close too, I can feel it, but he tries to hold off.

He rises to his knees, pushing my head against the headboard, and places one hand on the wall above me.

The other comes to my throat, pinning me in place while he continues to brutalize my pussy.

Something happens in that moment, maybe it’s my brain clearing from the post-orgasm fog, maybe Silas was right and I wasn’t ready.

But as my husband begins to tell me how good I feel, how tight I am, how beautiful I am, unwelcome thoughts enter my mind. I begin to question if he told her those same things... if he held her down in that same way, if he made her come repeatedly like he always does to me.

Suddenly, my throat grows tight, not from his hand but from emotion. I fight back the tears and try as hard as I can to pull myself together, staying in the moment. But with each stroke, each grunt, each softly spoken word, my heart splinters.

His eyes are closed, and his movements become frantic and unsteady. His cock thickens inside of me, and then he plows deep one last time, roaring out my name .

And with that, my heart cracks, and I lose control of my emotions as I wonder if he called out her name while coming deep inside her...

He’s still inside me, supported by the hand on the wall, head bowed down with his eyes closed as he breathes hard. I try to stay quiet, my heart splintering in a million little pieces, but a sob manages to break free. I rush my hand to my lips, trying to silence it, but it’s too late.

His lids shoot open and stare into my crying eyes. “No...”