by K Carr
“Can I join you?” he asked over the sound of the shower. He tossed his t-shirt aside and began undoing his jeans. “Sorry, may I join you?” he teased. “That’s the correct way to ask, isn’t it?”
Everything came down in one go and I blinked through the hot water rushing down my face. The sharp pangs of lust rippled through me as I took in the sight of his nudity. My husband was sexy as fuck, even while doing that unbalanced half-jig in an attempt to free his feet from his clothing.
“As long as you don’t fiddle with the temperature,” I warned. “Or my shower cap.” I added quickly. Shower-time fun usually ended up with my hair getting drenched which was fine if it needed a shampoo and condition, but terrible if it didn’t. And I had only just washed it last night at my mom’s.
“Can I fiddle with you?” Connor asked huskily as he pulled back the glass shower screen and stepped into the bath. The water bounced off me, catching the side of him and dampening the front of his hair.
“That sounds very inappropriate,” I stated dryly.
He chuckled. “It does, in a weird sort of way, makes you feel a bit uncomfortable even saying it.” He pulled a face then put his hand on my waist. “But I do want to fiddle…canoodle, does that sound better?”
“You’ve been binge watching those British dramas again, haven’t you?” I arched a dripping wet eyebrow. “Canoodle?”
He didn’t respond, at least not with words. Connor backed me up against the tiled wall and lowered his lips to mine. The way he kissed me made his intentions clear. He lifted one of my legs over his arm and sort of hoisted me into a good position for – I inhaled through my mouth as he delicately ran a finger over my flesh. My breath hitched when he pressed his lips against mine again then slid a finger inside me for a moment. Connor caught my lower lip between his teeth, making a sound of satisfaction at the tell-tale sign of my arousal now coating his finger.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he murmured as he slowly guided his dick inside me. We stayed motionless for a few seconds while the water continued to fall around us. Connor kissed me and then showed me exactly how glad he was.
* * *
The heat from his body woke me, also the undeniable fact my bladder was crying out for release. I opened my eyes, squinting hard as I awaited the few seconds it took for my vision to adjust in the darkness. The thin beam of light sneaking underneath the door from the hallway helped with the adjustment and I realized it wasn’t the heat from Connor’s body, or the pressure on my bladder. It was most likely the low hum of my phone on the bedside table. I snatched it up, irrationally fearing it was concerning my Mom or some other dreaded bad news. Having stayed with her these last few months had reignited that fierce protectiveness I used to have for her after Daddy’s death. Thankfully, it was nothing more than a weather notification and why the hell hadn’t I turned off the notifications for the stupid app in the first place?
Conscious of Connor’s sleeping form, I edged out of our bed and sleepily made my way to the en-suite. I didn’t bother turning on the light then immediately regretted not doing so when I sat on the toilet.
“Fuck!” The splash was as loud as my hand smacking into the wall as I tried to unsuccessfully save myself from falling into the damn toilet bowl. “Connor, you - urgh!” The toilet seat was up instead of down and my ass was now dripping with toilet bowl water. I had fallen right into the damn water! Gross. Hissing expletives I gingerly straightened up and reached out for some much needed toilet paper. I didn’t know if it was better I was naked when this had happened, or worse. All I knew was I would need a shower. Toilet water – yuck. Still swearing under my breath I dabbed the toilet paper against my dripping butt and tossed it into the bowl. Less than a minute later the bathroom light was on and I was under the spray of the shower. The muttered curses continued to fall from my mouth while I envisioned soap and hot water resistant germs multiplying on my ass.
“Jen, what are you doing?” Connor’s sleepy question was met with a growl from me. He was halfway in the bathroom and rubbing his eyes. “Why on earth are you in the shower?”
“I fell in the toilet,” I ground out over the sound of the shower.
“What?” Connor stepped further into the en-suite, taking a moment to do that very male thing of adjusting his semi-hard dick.
How did they put up with it? Waking up with an erection all the time must be such an inconvenience…kind of like another inconvenience. A toilet seat not being put down sort of inconvenience. I scrubbed my ass harder and glared at him. “I fell in the damn toilet bowl because the seat was up.”
Connor’s eyes widened and his gaze immediately swung around to the toilet. He sent me a sheepish look as he stumbled over to the toilet and put the seat down. Then he raised it up again, angled his dick and proceeded to take a leak.
“Sorry,” he muttered in-between a yawn. “I must’ve picked up bad habits when you weren’t here.” Connor finished peeing, flushed the toilet, then put the seat down. “It won’t happen again.”
I twisted around in the shower to watch him move to the sink and wash his hands. When he was finished drying them, he sent me a sleepy wink and exited the bathroom. Unbelievable. A chuckle bubbled up my throat and I fought against it, but it won. I could look on the lighter side of things. A short while later I was dried off and tugging on the pjs I had originally intended on wearing to bed hours ago.
“Why are you putting clothes on?” Connor stretched across his side of the bed to flick on the bedside light.
“Because it’s cold and I want to.”
“You don’t need them, I’ll keep you warm.” he offered and lifted up the covers for me.
I tied the drawstring at my waist and crawled into bed. “It’s cold.”
Connor tossed the sheets over us then immediately slid up to me to spoon. With his hand snaking around my waist, he jokingly pledged once more. “I promise to remember to put the toilet seat down after I use it.”
“It’s no big deal,” I assured him now I’d had sufficient time to see the funny side of it. “I mean, it is a big deal but you don’t normally do it so, yeah,”
He suddenly pulled back from me and sat up.
“What?” I turned around to peer up at him.
Connor ran a hand halfway through his hair then scratched the back of his head. He turned to face me. “You do know we have to go back to counselling,” When he saw my eyes widened, he tacked on a wry, “You know that, right?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” This particular topic was out of the blue and I was understandably taken aback.
“It’s kind of necessary, sweetheart.” he kept his tone pleasant, low and soothing, as if speaking to an unreasonable child…or an unhinged adult.
I narrowed my eyes. “Is it?”
“Yes,” Connor’s reply was quick and firm. “I didn’t want to mention it earlier,” He rubbed his nape now. “To be honest I was going to leave it for a couple of days, let you and Meggie settle back in.” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “But we’re both up now so,”
I raised an eyebrow at his shrug and tried not to scowl. “Um, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”
Connor stretched his legs out under the covers then folded his arms, head still angled in my direction he matched my half-scowl with an eye squint. “I have and I know you’re not,” He rubbed his lower jaw pensively. “You didn’t benefit from it last time,”
I could hear his unsaid words vibrating in the air. You didn’t give it a chance, he was definitely thinking those words right now. Silently judging my past behaviours where it concerned our failed counselling. I kept quiet. Was I ashamed of the manner in which I had approached our joint therapy back then? Of course I was. If I had stuck it out maybe all this – the separation, the pain we all suffered – could’ve been dealt with in a healthier way. A gentler way. What scars had I caused to my daughter by my unwillingness to fix the fractures in my marriage? And I knew for a fact the breakdown of our family after Cory’s d
eath had made whatever issues she had worse…much, much worse.
“I know I didn’t stick it out, Connor,” If my voice was empty it was only because there were too many emotions fighting to break through, they all wanted out and I couldn’t decide how I felt in the moment. “You don’t have to-”
“That’s not what I meant, Jen,” he cut me off smoothly. “Don’t start a fight-”
It was me interrupting now. “I’m not the one starting a fight-”
“Yes,” he shot back. “You’re spoiling for a fight. I can see it on your face.”
I exhaled and stared him down. He stared right back. It seemed we were truly back as a couple because up until a few months – maybe even weeks – ago he would have let my actions go unchallenged to avoid a massive argument. He would’ve done anything to keep the peace. Now he was acting like normal, like before the accident, like the man I had married, and I didn’t quite know how to feel about it. Shit! Was I actually longing for the time when he would let me act however I wanted? Say whatever nasty thing I wanted while knowing he would silently accept it? What did that say about me as a person?
“And I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, Jen,” he stressed. “This,” Connor shook his head at me. “This is why we need counselling. We don’t communicate the same anymore. Every sentence, every action – I don’t know about you, but I’m always looking behind everything, trying to see if it was misinterpreted, if I wasn’t clear, if I offended you, if I hurt you – I’m fucking tired of being that way with you. I want to get back to the place where we don’t have all this,” He unfolded his arms and waved his hands through the air in exasperation. “This shit underlying every single breath between us.”
I understood the underlying shit. Anxiously picking apart our interaction to see exactly what anything meant, yeah, I did it all the time.
“Plus,” Connor twisted over on his side now to look at me. “We can’t afford to pay divorce lawyers again, and if we don’t go to therapy our marriage might fall apart a second time.”
I squinted at him. “Not everyone has to go to therapy.”
“No, but we need it,” Connor reiterated. “And as I just said, we can’t afford divorce lawyers again,”
“Are we broke?” I asked bluntly.
“No,” Connor hastened to clarify. “But the business isn’t doing as well as it used to.”
“Oh.” I chewed my bottom lip. “You want me to come back to work?” There was so much we should have discussed before my homecoming.
Connor glanced across the room for a second then very carefully said, “I think things would definitely improve from a financial aspect if you came back to the office,” He held my gaze, unflinching and guarded. “But it’s your decision.”
Was there an undertone of something in his voice? A subtle drop of snark directed at me? Clearing my throat, I sat up now and folded my arms. “It’s a simple yes or no answer, Connor. Do you need me to come back to work?”
He exhaled slowly and shook his head again. “Jen, please, I don’t want this to descend into a fight.”
“Yes or no?” I asked, getting a touch irritated. “Just answer it.”
“Yes,” he said almost immediately. “I do need you back in the office, but that’s up to you. I’m not going to force you to come back in if you don’t feel ready.”
We were both silent for a minute, observing each other while waiting to see who would make the next move. Fuck. I made it. “If we’re so broke, how will we afford counselling?”
To his credit, his expression didn’t change after my polite but wholly sardonic question. He did rub his temple though as he replied, “Our health insurance should cover it, just like before.”
“Will it? Are you sure? On top of Meg’s therapy sessions?” I tossed back. “What are the deductibles for Meg’s therapy?” I knew exactly how much the deductibles were. I was just being combative under the premise of financial concern.
Calling my bluff, Connor said, “You set all our policy up, Jennifer. You know the figures. You know the ins and outs of our policy.” He blinked a few times. “Do you want me to go find the paperwork? Because I will,” He blinked some more. “If you want me to.”
It was right here, in this moment, where I saw things clearly. We needed the therapy. I needed therapy.
“Fine,” I croaked out.
Connor sighed and turned to swing his legs out the bed, muttering as he did. “I’ll check the cabinets for the paperwork,” he stopped when I grabbed his arm.
“I meant fine, as in ‘fine I’ll do the therapy’.”
Connor paused to scrutinize my face. “You will?”
I nodded and his mouth twisted on one side.
“You’ll stick it out?” he asked.
“Yes,” The yes had been pulled begrudgingly from me. I said I was going to do the damn therapy.
“You promise?” he pressed.
“For crying out loud, Connor,” I huffed, but it was all a front to hide my building unease. Therapy hadn’t worked for me last time around.
His lips pulled up at the corners as he returned to his previous position. “I want to hear it, Jen.”
“I will go to marriage counselling with you.” I stated in a dry monotone. “And I promise to stick it out to the very end.”
“Thank you,”
The gratitude in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by me, and it did make me feel uncomfortable. We really should’ve discussed things in more details. It didn’t help his behaviour at my mother’s place had probably been the underlying reason she had, kindly but firmly, booted me out her home so unexpectedly. How long would I have remained under the safety of my mother’s roof? How much longer would I have danced the fine line of being with Connor while simultaneously not being with him? Mom’s place meant complete safety without judgement. Here meant – I didn’t know what my home meant to me anymore. Home was now painfully incomplete. Fuck. I didn’t feel ready to be here.
I managed a smile, then focused on the fact marriage counselling might not be the biggest issue we had to deal with. “How broke are we?”
“Too broke for lawyers.” Connor tried to joke before he laid down and peered up at me. “I’m hoping things improve in the coming months, but I’m not going to lie. It’s been tough.”
Guilt filled me, I said nothing.
“New business contracts were down by 60% last year.” he admitted. There was a look of shame in his eyes. “I just didn’t have the time to tender contracts and,” his words trailed off.
“And you need me back.” I faced the undeniable truth with a dose of anxiousness. Maybe being back at work would be a good thing for me. Volunteering at the shelter was great but I only did a few hours each day, and they didn’t pay me.
He nodded before tugging me down. “I just need you.”
I let him wrap me up in his arms while silently worrying whether we were ready for this. Being back together plus working together? It was obvious from his words he needed my input in the business, but to go from spending barely any time together to living and working together? Shit. Was I ready for that? Once again, I felt the crippling doubt. Were we rushing things? Or was it better to approach it like one would a bandage? Rip it off so quickly you wouldn’t notice the pain…more like jump in with both feet in our case.
“Hey,” Connor kissed the edge of my shoulder. “You know what won’t cost us a thing?”
“What?” I asked then shook my head when he threw one leg over my hip and rocked his groin against me.
Connor wiggled his eyebrows to ensure I got his intent, not that anyone would miss it the way he was gyrating against me. “I told you not to put your pyjama’s on.”
Smirking I conceded. He had advised against putting clothes on. I wriggled back and tugged my top off. Connor grinned and moved his leg so I could pull my pj bottoms off.
In a husky voice, he suggested, “Do you want to get on top?”
“No,” I gave him a look. “I do not want to get on
top.” Did he think he would get me to do all the work? My legs were not up for that at this time of night. “And you left the toilet seat up. You owe me.”
Nodding, Connor winked at me. “You’re right. I do owe you.” Then he pulled the covers over his head and darted down the bed, making me squeal in the process.
I lifted the covers over my head as he settled himself between my legs and bit the corner of his mouth. “Shall I hold the sheet up so you can get air?” Being helpful was the least I could do.
Connor curved his hands around my thighs and began pressing soft kisses on my inner thighs. “If you don’t mind.”
Deep down I was both relieved and ashamed of how eagerly I grabbed the chance to do something other than focus on our problems. I was home and I had walked past Cory’s closed bedroom door a grand total of fifteen times – I counted. Each time it felt like my heart was in a painful vice. Each time I instinctively averted my eyes from that wooden door.
“Jen,” Connor was scrutinizing my face. The kisses had stopped. “Are you alright?” I tried to smile, I really did, but my eyes told another story. He moved back up my body, cupping the side of my face with one hand as he adjusted his lower body against mine. Frowning, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I murmured.
His frown deepened. “Hmm. Doesn’t look like nothing.”
I tried harder with my smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something right now?”
Connor exhaled softly, then slipped his hand from my cheek to cradle my nape. He bent his mouth to mine, slow and tender was the kiss he gave me. After a moment he raised his head and searched my face. “You know you can talk to me, yeah?”