Page 46 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Eva

He had pearls in his penis. I traced the small bumps lining the underside of his shaft, admiring the curves of each.

It was hands down the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.

We stood in the tiniest of showers in his above-garage studio, where I explored his body modification in great detail. As well as every other part of him.

Rhett was as fascinating naked as he was clothed.

The tattoos on his arm and neck were just the start of it all.

The intricate vines that crept up his right arm and into a gorgeous raven, its wing traveling across his shoulder and over his chest. His entire torso was a canvas of little flash tattoos: stars, flowers, birds, butterflies, and a paper airplane.

The paper airplane started on his left hip and ended on his thigh.

It was adorable. There was a spattering of tattoos to go with the airplane leading down to his knee, including a snake, more flowers, and a little ghost. And that didn’t even account for the wild adventure on his back or the adorable peach on his left ass cheek.

When he’d told me he’d let his late wife use him for tattoo practice, I hadn’t realized he meant she’d turned him into a canvas.

“It’s like a magic toy,” I murmured, running my nails over the underside of his dick one more time. It was. The ridges of his pearls were nothing short of magic. Outside of the expensive toys I’d bought, I’d never experienced anything like it.

“We’re never calling my dick that again.”

“Did it hurt?”

“ I was young and dumb,” Rhett replied. “Most things I did hurt. I should tell you about the time I tried to ride a unicycle down a railing.”

“Good God,” I scoffed. Moving from his dick, I circled the single pearl he had at the base of his shaft. “Why the lone wolf here?”

“I’ll put you on top next time and you’ll find out, spark plug.” He smirked.

“Oh… oh… ” My eyes widened as I realized it was in the perfect location to apply friction to my clit. “Oh, I like that. Does it vibrate too?”

“What? No!” he scoffed. “The health hazards alone of trying to execute something like that.”

“How would I know?” I exclaimed. “Besides, you let a strange man slice open your dick and put metal balls in it. Who knows what crazy thing you’d do?”

“That’s fair.” His hands ran up my arms, over my shoulders, and found my neck. I bit back a little moan. There was just something about his strong hands on my neck. I never thought I’d be into it, but I was. With his thumbs, he tilted my jaw upward and kissed me briefly.

There was an instant comfort with him—something I hadn’t expected to find. Or was even looking for. Rhett Carson was a pleasant, unexpected surprise in my life. I liked his creativity and spark. I liked the way he poked at my comfort zone and wasn’t afraid to make me question things.

“Turn,” Rhett ordered as he reached over me to grab the shower head. He also liked to order me around, and I was very much into that. My body slid against his as I rotated like he asked. “Hold still while I clean you up, spark plug.”

My body was covered in car grease and dirt from his hands—at least he’d avoided all the truly sensitive parts. It coated my skin, stuck in the pores. Even the water seemed to just roll right off.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything fancy for you,” he murmured as he lathered up a black loofah. “You’ll walk away smelling like orange soap and coconut, but it’ll get the job done.”

His calloused hands were gentle as he took his time washing me head to toe. Despite the small shower, he still found his way down onto his knees to make sure my legs were spotless like the rest of me. Only when he was satisfied with that did he move on to washing my hair.

He treated me with the utmost care as if I was precious and fragile. It was intimate—impossibly intimate in a way I couldn’t begin to describe. My chest tightened as he continued to dote on me. This kind of intima cy… the unspeakable connection building between us… it was soft. Warm and safe.

I couldn’t remember the last time I experienced something like this with Logan.

Our marriage had become something of a routine.

The same schedule every week of planned sex, dinners together from across the same table, conversations of work, Logan falling asleep in the bath every Sunday.

The connection and intimacy hadn’t just dwindled—it was completely gone.

The weeks since we got back together had been different but confusing.

My heart lodged in my throat, constricting with inexplicable emotions. Tears spilled over that I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to, so I shut my eyes and did my best to let the shower wash them away. Unfortunately, I didn’t hide them as well as I thought I did.

“Hey,” Rhett whispered. A finger hooked under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. The concern in his gaze barely masked his confusion. My lower lip trembled as he asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

When I tried to speak, nothing but a small whimper came out, so I settled for shaking my head.

“Can I fix it?” I shook my head again. “Can I hold you while you feel your way through it?”

I just nodded. His arms wrapped around my shoulders as I lay my head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under my ear was comforting. Instead of crying harder, I sank into his calm. The storm of emotions rolled back, making it easy to breathe.

“Can I ask you something?” Rhett whispered over the top of my head. I nodded while wiggling closer, enjoying the tightness of his arms around me. “How does this whole poly relationship thing work for you? For us? If there is an us?”

“I’d like there to be an us,” I admitted. “I imagine it’s just like dating anyone else, but I also have someone else.”

“That you’re married to.”

“Yes. But we talk, we have rules, we keep schedules, we go out, we stay in.”

“And if I don’t want to date anyone else?” he asked. “Would that bother you?”

“No. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” I said, and I meant it. “But that doesn’t change that I’m married. And I’m not leaving him.”

“ I don’t expect you.” He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t think I ever pictured dating this way, but I also never pictured meeting someone worth dating. I don’t need a whole lot, and I keep busy with everything I do. But I like this, spark plug. I like you. A lot more than I thought I would.”

I smiled as I pulled back. He kissed me and then a second time, letting it linger.

“Maybe you should ask for my number,” I told him. “Might make this easier.”

“Nah, I’m going to just keep throwing you out into the fucking wild and see what happens,” Rhett said with a laugh. “I like being stalked by you.”

I buried my face in his chest, smiling to myself. This man.

“I like you too,” I said quietly.

Rhett drove me home, which was probably a good thing since I was stuck wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that looked like pants with my height. I let myself in quietly, but Logan wasn’t there.

I spent just enough time changing into my own clothes and drying my wet hair before the emotional storm broke.

I curled up in bed with quiet tears flowing endlessly.

For the better part of an hour, I lay there, staring at Logan’s nightstand as I tried to figure out what happened to us.

When had the distance between us started?

I painstakingly analyzed every year of our marriage and tried to figure out when we went from spontaneous dates and outings to everything on a schedule. When had routine replaced connection? When had the intimacy between us vanished?

Each question brought on another wave of sadness. I loved Logan with all my heart. I’d never love anyone the way I loved him. Was it wrong to want more? To want to recapture what we’d lost?

Somewhere before midnight, Logan came home. As always, he was quiet while he got ready for bed. I tried to hold it together—I really did—but the sniffle that escaped me was more than enough to make him stop.

“Eva?” Logan whispered.

“When did we fall apart?” I asked. I was barely able to get the words out around tears. He turned on the side table lamp, the light flooding his concerned expression.

“ What happened, honey?” He sat down on the bed and reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear. His thumb gently brushed away tears as his brows furrowed together.

“When did we fall apart?” I repeated.

“I don’t… I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he replied. Sniffling, I sat and dragged the pillow with me for comfort.

“You and me… you and me…” I sucked in a fast breath as emotions killed my ability to talk. I buried my face in the pillow. Stupid feelings. The bed dipped as Logan moved close enough to drag me into his lap, but I didn’t give up the pillow. He folded his body over mine, holding me tight.

“I’m right here, I’m right here.” He said the words on repeat while all the feelings painfully spilled out of me. I hadn’t wanted to start the conversation like this— this was ridiculous.

How long I cried was beyond me, but I did until there was nothing left in me. My heart hurt. I loved this man so fiercely, but I missed everything we were. I just had to find a way to verbalize that to him.

I scrubbed my cheeks with my sleeve as I straightened, doing my best to hold my shit together. Logan’s patience was unrivaled while he waited for me to calm down enough to speak.

“When did we stop being a couple?” I asked when I found my voice—though, I sounded like utter shit.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head.

“We’re not… when did we become mundane? We just…

we’re… our whole lives are scheduled. Dinner dates and work functions and meals across the table from each other as we discuss work and…

and… Thursday night sex, Monday evening Italian, Sunday morning brunch with someone or other.

Everything is proper and expected and… empty! ”

“I admit that—”