She pouts, but doesn’t budge from her position at the window. “My clothes are in Ashton’s bedroom.”
I head to my dresser and pull out a t-shirt for her to wear. “You can borrow something of mine to wear to bed or sleep naked.”
It’s impossible for my eyes not to wander down her body. I want to see her naked, tear her clothes off, explore every inch of her body.
“I’ll take a shirt,” she says and holds out her hand for me to deposit the clothes into. “And boxers. You don’t get to see any part of me naked, ever again.”
“Ever is a long time,” I mutter under my breath as I yank the bottom drawer open and grab a pair of gray sweatpants with a drawstring.
One night, nearly six years ago, wasn’t enough.
But I doubt she’ll ever break down the wall that she’s built around her heart.
Not that I blame her.
She has a kid.
And I forced her to move in here, marry me, and uproot her life. I’m the bastard in this situation, but I want to make right by her. Karina deserves that much.
It’s why I haven’t demanded that she quit her job and give up her career. Francesco wasting his day as her bodyguard while she’s at work is an inconvenience at best. I’m lucky Alessandro hasn’t made the call to get her sacked.
I toss the clothes onto the bed, and I stalk toward the shower. I’m tired, grumpy, and getting a hard-on just imagining her in my clothes and under the covers of my bed.
I need to get laid.
Which isn’t going to happen ever again.
I’m not a man to cheat on my wife. I have principles.
But fuck it, not having sex for the rest of my life is not something I can handle.
Forever is too long.
“Where are you going?” she calls after me. I don’t bother with grabbing clothes. There are already clean linens hanging in the bathroom.
“A shower,” I mutter, and shut the door abruptly to the bathroom.
I can hear something muffled on the opposite side of the door. I don’t know what she said, and I don’t care enough to find out. She’s probably complaining that the accommodations aren’t up to her standards.
I flip the fan on in the bathroom to drown out any other sounds that she makes. I start the shower and strip down, the unmistakable sign of my arousal impossible to ignore.
I need a cold shower.
But that’s not what I want.
I wanther.
I crave every inch of her body tangled around mine, my cock nestled inside of her warmth.
But I won’t force myself on her. Married or not, that makes no difference.
I climb into the shower, stand under the icy cold spray, and eventually turn the water too hot, unable to handle the goosebumps forming on my arms.
Karina doesn’t have to know I fantasize about her.
She never has to find out.
Finishing in the shower, I dry off and secure the towel low around my waist before opening the bedroom door.