I look at my sleeping husband, flat on his stomach, his teddy bear brown hair falling over his forehead. I smooth back the waves that tickle his brow and muster a smile. He was amazing last night. So amazing that we came back to our room and went at it again, licking and sucking each other to another earth shattering orgasm. Of course, I struggled to live in the moment and just focus on Tucker and what his tongue and fingers were doing to my body. I’d give myself over to pleasure, only to be jolted back to reality when the look on Ransom’s face would pop into my mind. I hurt him—I know I did. But I don’t see how there was any way to avoid it. Tucker is my husband . . . will always be my husband. And there’s no way Ransom can expect me not to make love to my husband.
I pull myself out of bed much sooner than I should and stretch my stiff, sore limbs before jumping in the shower. When I step out, it takes me a full five minutes to decide what I should put on. I look at my tiny, white bikini, still completely untouched with the tags still dangling from it. I’ve been here for a week and still haven’t gone for a swim in the beautiful infinity pool, or even taken a dip in the more private turquoise lagoon, partitioned by blue palo verde and palm trees. I rip off my towel and grab the bathing suit. It’s still early enough that it should be pretty empty, plus after last night most people are probably sleeping in or going for another round. But with the bright morning sun streaming through the curtains, and the smell of fresh, desert air, I can’t find a good reason to spend another second inside.
I lift my face to the heavens as I greet the cloudless blue sky and the warmest, most brilliant sunlight I’ve ever felt. The only signs of human life are Oasis staff, preparing the day for lots of sunbathing, noshing, and sipping. Ordinarily, I would roll my eyes at those couples lazing around the pool in their designer swimwear and shades, but for some reason, I want to join them. I want to stretch out in an oversize lounger made for two and eat fresh cut papaya and drink ridiculous libations from a hallowed out pineapple.
Overnight, I had become one of those people. The sexually liberated. And even though it was just a one-on-one experience for Tucker and me, which would probably be deemed tame compared to theirs, when we looked up from the fog of orgasm, we realized that we were being watched. Yet, there wasn’t an inkling of judgment or disdain etched in their faces. There was admiration, awe, and definitely arousal. At least that was the case for mostly everyone. For Ransom? Not so much.
I assumed he had stormed off to his room after watching Tucker and me, so overwhelmed with hurt and disgust. I couldn’t go after him—seriously, how ridiculous would it look if I ran after him ass naked?—and I couldn’t fully express my regret to Tucker. We had turned a page, the one that had been holding us back from completing our story. I needed to stay in this moment with him, no matter how badly I wanted to make things right with Ransom. This was our chance to make things better. I had to take it. Any good wife would agree.
So here I am, the morning after. I had not only survived Justice’s playground, I had thrived. And maybe this was exactly what I needed to solidify my love for Tucker. Maybe I was only weak for Ransom because my marriage was weak. And now that we had found the key to our bedroom ills, maybe we could cure everything else that was wrong with us. Whatever that is.
After sitting out for ten minutes, the Arizona summer sun, aka hell’s tanning bed, had become unbearable. I decide to roam over to the shaded lagoon situated behind the pool bar and a row of cabanas. I’d seen it before, obviously, but I had never actually been there. So checking out one of the most romantic spots on the property alone seemed a little sad, yet cathartic.
I step through a barrier of trees and my eyes find incredible beauty in that small space. Shimmering teal waters, limestone boulders strategically placed to create a magnificent series of natural fountains, and a sculpted, sun-kissed back slick with water.
I suck in a surprised breath when I see him, drawing his attention, and Ransom turns around, revealing a bare, chiseled chest that I had seen just days ago. He looks at me with the same shock I stare at him with, yet his expression quickly morphs into contempt. He snorts and cuts his eyes at me, just before turning back around to rest his elbows on the edge of the pool. I stand there, shocked at his demeanor. Just days ago, he was begging me not to leave, not to turn my back on him completely and shut him out. Now it seems the tables have turned.
“Can I help you?” he snaps without looking at me. The tone of his voice is so cold even the desert palms shiver.
“Ransom . . .”
I’m not sure what I should say. I’m sorry? Nope. What would I be sorry about? Sleeping with my husband? Trying to fix our intimacy issues in hopes that it would be enough to fix us? Yet, to shrug and tell him to get over it would seem callous. I’m a bitch when I need to be, not because I enjoy hurting people. And I’m not a liar. At least when I can help it.
“You knew we’d be there. You knew I wanted to repair my marriage. That was my intention all along.”
“Right. Your intention,” he sneers, looking over his shoulder. “Was it your intention when I was inside you? When you were damn near begging me to take you every time we were alone? Or how about the other night? What were your intentions when you had your pussy in my face, so fucking wet that there’s still a damp spot on the fucking chair? Were you thinking of Tucker then? Was that to save your marriage?”
Each accusation is like a blow to my gut, but I recover without so much as a flinch. I won’t let him rattle me. I won’t give this asshole the satisfaction of affecting me. That’s exactly what he wants. Instead, I drop the towel and the paperback I was holding, and march over to him, head held high and back straight. Although I feel about two feet tall right now.
Ransom peers up at me from his place in the pool, his expression a mixture of fury and boredom. Before he can spew one more insult, I let his ass have it.
“What’d you think, Ransom? That this was about you? It was never about you. You were fun to play with, yes, but that’s it. We had fun. But what else could you expect me to want from you? A relationship? A life? You’re a good lay, Ransom, and a great musician. But that’s it. Stick to what you know and leave the marriage shit to the grownups.”
The lie lingers on my lips, swollen with the stinging remnants of my words. I know they’re harsh, but they don’t even seem to crack his stoic exterior. Instead, he just continues to look up at me, hands on my hips, my mouth a tight slash. All of that, yet no response. It’s unnerving.
I start to turn away, when I feel his arms under my knees, squeezing. Then I’m airborne for a fleeting second before being plunged into cool waters headfirst. I thrash and fight, gulping down a gallon of water before I realize what’s happened. When I finally break through to the surface after what seems like the battle of my life, I hear him chuckling, yet I can’t see him through the wet hair and water in my eyes.
“You son of a bitch!” I sputter through violent coughs. “How dare you! How fucking dare you!”
I still hear him chuckling just inches from me, and I claw at the air in front of me, hoping to connect with his skin. My nails rake across what feels like the hard mound of his bicep, yet he keeps laughing, the dark timbre of his voice both infuriating and disturbing me. When I’m finally on two feet and my sopping wet hair is out of my eyes, I glare at him with pure concentrated malice in my steel gray eyes.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t get to touch me. You don’t ever get to fucking touch me!”
“Relax, H. It’s water. It won’t hurt you.” He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. That’s when I see angry bright red scratches lanced in his arm. I drew blood. I made him hurt for me just as he’s made me bleed for him. And now . . . I want to do it more. I want him to ache. I want him to suffer. Just make him feel an ounce of the torment I feel inside. I launch myself at him, pounding his chest, scratching at him like a wild animal. Fighting this demon inside me that makes me want him, even though I have everything.