Maxim wasn’t exactly a considerate man so, knowing that Brennan was the only reason I had any of my possessions back, I used the burner cell Baggy had given me, one that had two numbers programmed into the contacts—his and Brennan’s—to send my husband a text message.
Me:My things are here. Thank you for arranging that.
Brennan:As much as I like your ass, it’s not practical to keep you naked all the time.
He liked my ass?
God, I was too pathetic to live when that simple statement made my heart skip a beat.
I knew I had image issues, but this pretty much confirmed it.
Me:Well, thanks.
Brennan:You’re welcome. Is everything there?
Me:No books, but everything else, yes.
He was quiet a few minutes, so I started to make my way to the upper level.
Then:Brennan:What about your ma’s journals? You were going to tell me what she said about me.
I bit my lip.Me:Just that she loved you.
When he didn’t reply again, and I was treated to radio silence, I understood that he didn’t want Mama’s love. Considering how she’d adored him, that hurt me, but it also filled me with relief, which just made me feel guilty. It meant I wasn’t diving into my mother’s place, and afforded me the chance to be me and not be compared to her all the time.
Because I had no idea when he’d be back, and I had no desire to text him and ask him, I retreated to the kitchen, made myself another sandwich from fixins in the fridge, then when I saw it was going on twelve, I went for a shower, undressed, tugged on one of his shirts from his closet, and got into bed.
As I stared up at the ceiling, at the end of one long and very bizarre day, covered in his shirt when I’d prefer to be covered in him, the desire to touch myself was strong.
An act of rebellion? My way of snubbing him like he was snubbing me on our wedding night?
I wasn’t sure.
I’d purposely not brought any panties or sleepwear up from downstairs before my shower, so I was naked apart from the silk of his shirt.
Perhaps it was because I was inhisbed, inhisbedroom, but it made me hyper aware in a way I’d never been before.
Four hours ago, he’d teased me in the shower.
Four hours ago, he’d given me a list of orders he expected me to obey...
The desire to be a brat to spite him was at the forefront of my mind, but it was overtaken by a simple thought.
Downstairs, I’d thought about how I wanted him to trust me.
That had to begin somewhere, didn’t it?
Masturbating when he expressly asked me not to, even if he’d never really know the truth, wasn’t the way to start things as I meant to go on.
So even though I was pretty sure I was more aware of my clit than I was of the chill in the air outside the covers, I rolled onto my side, curved into a fetal ball, and told myself to get some sleep.