“You can,” he said. “Or I can just be less stupid and remember to wear a condom with you. Or I can pull out, but that’s always a gamble.”
The image of his face when he was aroused flashed through my mind. Lids lowered, heavy with desire over hazed, golden eyes. His mouth parted and his throat flushed feverishly. His fingers pushing under my clothes to find the parts of me that purred beneath his touch. His body poised over me, waiting to ravage the last bits of my resistance.
“I think maybe I should try the pill out,” I said.
He took his phone from his pocket and swiped the screen. “Alright, I’ll have my doctor call in a prescription for you. But if you don’t like it, I want you to tell me and I’ll figure it out. Understood?”
I nodded and he took my face in his hand and kissed my mouth. He turned to go and I made a quiet noise in my throat, halting him. He glanced over his shoulder.
“Why do you care, Peregrine?” I asked quietly.
“Because I’m your husband, Lia.”
Then he was gone and his footfalls echoed down the hall. I stood there, my nails digging in the countertop, and listened to his car drive away. Wondering why he’d had a catch in his voice and why my stomach fluttered with the small hope that he cared.
I awoke sometime after midnight and rolled over, but his side of the bed was empty and cold. It was storming and thunder and rain shook the walls and rattled the windows like someone was trying to get inside. I hadn’t gotten scared during a storm since I was a little girl, but I was tonight.
As I sat there, half wrapped in silk sheets, a little chill went down my back. Like cold fingers stroking my spine.
Thunder roared and I vaulted to my feet. I couldn’t sit here all alone. Even if that meant having to face Peregrine after our awkward morning together, I needed the safety of another person.
The floor was cold against my feet as I moved across the dark bedroom and cracked the door open. The alcoves in the walls glimmered blue, lighting the way down the hall. I wrapped my arms around my body and moved through the dark. My spine tingled and the wind howled and shook the house.
The door to the stairwell was locked from the outside so he clearly wasn’t in his studio. I wandered back down the hall and entered the kitchen. The house was quiet and I wondered if perhaps he had left. But a quick peak into the garage revealed that his car was still parked.
Feeling hollow, I padded back upstairs, but before I could turn into our bedroom, I heard a faint sound from down the hall. I’d never been in his home office out of respect for his space, but now my curiosity was piqued. Gathering my courage, I followed the sound down the hall.
His office door stood ajar and through it spilled bright orange firelight. Heart in my throat, I clutched the door frame, pressing myself to the wall, and peered inside. My husband sat at his desk, head bent and a drink in his hand. My breath caught and I froze, taken aback by the sight.
He was so beautiful it frightened me.
He still wore his dark dress pants and shoes, but his white shirt was open over his tanned, tattooed chest. I followed the V of his naked chest up to his throat and up to his jaw. Over the scar across his smooth skin.
Transfixed, I entered the room and shut the door. His head jerked up and his eyes narrowed as he flipped his notebook closed. He’d been drawing. My curiosity had me burning as I moved slowly across the dark room toward him and circled the desk. He turned, not speaking, and swiveled his chair to face me.
The air between us was thick with tension as I drew near. I reached down and opened his notebook. My breath caught and my body froze. It was a charcoal sketch of me. On my back, naked with our sheets over one breast, leaving the other free. My thigh was bare and cocked open, the faintest traces of my sex showing through the sheet.
“Peregrine,” I whispered.
“You’re beautiful when you sleep.” His face was expressionless.
“Do you watch me?”
“Sometimes.”
His amber gaze burned into me, painfully raw. Had he been drinking? I swept my gaze over the table, noting the empty decanter and the half drunk glass of whiskey. Bending, I turned his face up and cautiously kissed his mouth. Tasting him the way I had in the car, except this time there was no lingering coffee on his lips.
“How much whiskey have you had?”
His palm slid down my side and lingered on my outer thigh. Touching me with his middle finger almost reverently.
“It takes a lot more than a few glasses to get me drunk.”
“Peregrine—”
He rose abruptly, cutting me off. “Don’t come at me for this, Lia. I give you everything you need, I provide for you, I satisfy you in bed. Just let me have my weak moments. Unwatched.”
I was speechless, caught off guard by his sudden emotion. For a second I considered leaving him to sit here in the dark in peace, but there was a strange, sick tugging in my chest that wouldn’t let me turn away. Instead I pushed him gently back into the chair with the last vestiges of my courage and straddled him. His body tensed as I ran my fingers gently, wonderingly through his hair.