Romance Rekindled (Happily Bedded Bliss), стр. 14
“Of what?” His voice rumbled beneath my ear, his heart beating the rhythm I knew so well.
“Of being here alone. I can do alone in New York. If we come here, it’s to be with you.” I closed my eyes, hating the ache in my throat, the wetness beneath my eyelids. It was a weakness I was loathe to show, even to him.
“I know. I’ll try harder this time.” He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight against him.
“Me too.” I hoped it would be enough. Modern life was hard on marriages. So many of our friends had already let theirs fall away for one reason or another: resentment for having to stay in a hated job, mortgaging retirement because of selfish money handling, checking out of raising the kids, affairs written off as symptoms of larger issues. It seemed we were one of the few left trying to make it work in a society where no one repaired anything, since it was cheaper to buy a new model. What would keep us from failing like they had, or compromising ourselves to stay in marriages the way Ted or the Watt’s did?
“Jessica?” Scott rubbed his fingers against my scalp until I looked up at him. “I love you.”
I’d heard the words before, but never had I realized they were all that separated us from them. Our love was the magic we had to keep ourselves afloat instead of drowning in a river of indifference. It had to be enough to see us through this rough patch, and if it wasn’t, we’d have to make more.
“I love you, too.”
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Desire Renewed
Romance Rekindled
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Lovers Reunited
Desire Renewed
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Lovers Reunited
Coming home is the only way out.
Paul Bentley is a NARC, his estranged wife Kayla is a drug counselor trying to keep others from running afoul of the law. The stress of their conflicting jobs breaks their marriage, but can the passion that remains reunite these former lovers?
“Kay? I’m lonely.”
“Better to be lonely alone.” Her lip trembled and she prayed it didn’t show in her voice.
“Yeah. Look, I know I agreed to leave you alone. I know there’s no going back. You’re better off without me dragging you down. But I was thinking, maybe I could come over? We could open a bottle of wine and try and talk again.”
“You never dragged me down when you were here. It was losing you and having to see you still here that hurt.” Her stomach twisted and she inched lower in the tub, letting the water soothe her wounds.
“I feel like I should take that hurt away, you know? I want to hold you and let you know none of it had anything to do with you. I didn’t want any of it to touch you.”
“I don’t live in a bubble, Paul.” She took a deep breath for courage. “You don’t want to change. You just don’t want to be lonely right now. And on again, off again is not good for either one of us.”
“We haven’t tried on again. Let me come over. I’ll bring a bottle of your favorite wine and you can mess up my head. And then once I get it together we can mess up our bed. It’s been way too long, Kayla.”
“We can talk on the phone.” Her eyes felt heavy, tears threatening. She wanted him, the old him, here in the worst way. But she didn’t think she had it in her to tell him to leave again.
The phone clicked in her ear. She called his name a few times before giving up and setting the phone on the ground. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of him, but it was too late. His image loomed in her mind, teasing her.
Read on…
Desire Renewed
The daring lives of husbands and wives.
Erotic romance novelist Cassie is frustrated. Ever since her books started coming out her husband has no interest in sex. With the help of a book of weekly fantasies she’s trying to turn his head, but he seems unaffected. But Cassie will let nothing keep her from saving her marriage. Not the lack of a babysitter for date night, her own inhibitions, or Miss Perky Tits.
“Hey stranger,” Trevor yelled through his open window. The truck didn’t have air conditioning, or much else in the way of amenities. It was so beat up from all of the summers of roofing I refuse to even ride in it. The bills had gotten the best of us lately, so he was roofing again. It was strange the way he could effortlessly transition from a banker in ironed shirts and designer shoes to a laborer in filthy pants and a backward baseball cap. When he dressed like that he seemed younger than ever. In moments like this I truly felt like I robbed the cradle.
“Hey yourself.” I barked back. “Open the door.” Trevor hopped out of the truck and trotted over to the front door. I hadn’t seen him awake in almost two weeks. We were both putting in as many hours as we could, trying to dig ourselves out of credit card hell. Between his golf habit, my shoe fetish, and the wedding last year we were sinking, fast.
“Home before dark, and you made dinner. I’m impressed, Megan,” he teased, opening the door and relieving me of the bag of food. Trevor pushed the door open for me to walk through while he inspected the contents of the bag.
“It’s from Wong Kong. I went through the drive thru,” I explained. “I