I felt strangely vulnerable, as if she held all the power. I wasn't sure what to do with these new feelings. Sex had always made me feel like the one in control. And now . . .
"How do you feel?" she whispered.
"Like your husband," I said instantly, a smile pulling at my lips. "How do you feel?"
She tilted her head up to look at me, the expression on her face happy and satisfied. "Like your wife," she whispered.
I smiled again and pulled her closer.
Kira circled one fingertip around my nipple and I shivered, drawing her closer. She tipped her head back and looked up at me. "Is it always like that?" she asked, a teasing note in her voice.
"No," I answered immediately. I gazed down at her, letting her see the sincerity in my eyes. "I've never experienced anything as wonderful as that. I've never experienced anything as wonderful as you." Relief and happiness flashed in her expression, and she smiled gently.
"Will it always be like that with us?"
I studied her vulnerable expression. Yes, I thought it would always be like that for us, because Kira was part of it—her joy, her passion, her beautiful spirit. But I thought I knew what she was really asking. She had once been shamed for something that came naturally to her. An uncomfortable feeling of jealousy threatened, and I was unwilling to bring her ex into the room, so I thought it better to make light of her question for now. I smiled and kissed her forehead. "We'll have to find out, won't we?" I turned suddenly and hovered over her, kissing her once, hard, on her mouth as I brought her arms up and pinned her hands above her head. She laughed, and then writhed beneath me, the moment turning light and flirtatious.
I kissed her again and then let her go. "We didn't use a condom," I said, my eyes moving over her features to gauge her reaction. I'd only realized afterward that, for the first time ever, I hadn't even thought about it. Somehow, though, I wasn't very concerned. I was worried she might be, although she hadn't mentioned it either.
She hesitated, obviously just considering it now for the first time, too. "One time is probably okay. I'll get on birth control so we don't have to think about it."
"Okay," I said, nodding, and wondering at my lack of worry. We'd be safe from now on, but we were married. We had a home. I didn't think I was ready for kids, had never even thought about it. But it wouldn't be a tragedy either. I wanted my new wife to myself for a while, but if it did happen, we'd figure it out.
"Need some water?" I asked, rubbing my nose along hers and then kissing the corner of her mouth.
"Yes, please," she said.
I stood and Kira sat up, moving back against the pillows at the headboard. I took a moment to drink her in: her mahogany hair splayed out all around her, her green eyes lazy and half closed, the expression on her face one of pure satisfaction, her naked beauty fully on display—that beautiful body I’d just been inside. Before I forgot the water and returned to bed to enjoy her again, I turned and headed for the bathroom. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was surprised to see the smile I hadn't even realized I was wearing.
**********
"Will you tell me about it?" she asked softly, leaning up and kissing my neck. We'd just made love for the second time and were lying against the pillows, Kira's head resting on my chest.
I paused, confused for a second about what she might be talking about. "You mean going to prison?"
She nodded, her lips still on my skin, the scent of her hair drifting up to me and making me feel peaceful and content.
I sighed. I wanted her to know everything about me. I wanted to share things with her I had never shared with anyone, but forcing the words out was difficult and not something I had any practice with.
I smoothed my hand down her silken hair, grasping a handful of it. "I had just gotten back from New York where I had gone to see my mother."
"You went to see your mother?" she asked, surprised.
I nodded. "The trip virtually ended before it had even begun. I've tried to put it out of my mind. But back then, I . . . well, I had graduated college, and I thought if she saw me, saw the man I'd become, that she'd, I don't know, fall to her knees and beg me for forgiveness. I envisioned just that very thing as stupid as that sounds." I made a small scoffing sound. "I flew to New York and looked her up, went to her door with no invitation." I was silent for a moment remembering the hope I'd carried so close to the surface as I'd stood in front of her apartment. "She was married, had a family—two young sons."
"She must have been glad you came to see her," she said softly.
I made a sound that would have been a laugh if there were any amusement in it. "No. She was so bitter—told me I ruined her life, told me she had been on the verge of a huge career when I put an end to that. She said she was glad she didn't have to look at me every day and be reminded of all she could have had. Then she asked me to leave. The worst part, though, was the way she looked at her two other boys while I was there. And I realized that it wasn't that she was incapable of love—it was just she was incapable of loving me." I delivered the words as casually as I could, but I felt the slight flush on my own cheekbones. The memory of that moment still burned like a red-hot brand.
"Gray," she said, a whole world of compassion in her eyes as she reached up and stroked my cheek. I leaned in to it.