Man Up Husband Page 2

  I want to burn the image out of my mind. I can't even get pissed at him for catching her when she stumbled. I would've kicked his ass if she fell on her face right at his feet and he did nothing to help her. But still, why'd she have to fall into his arms. Why couldn't she make it to mine?

  The rational part of my brain knows I'm overreacting. But the insanely jealous and insecure part of me, the part of me that can't seem to say or do anything to make her happy, hates him. He's my friend, and it happened before I met her, but the fact that he ever had his hands and mouth on my wife's body eats away at me like a log cabin infested with termites.

  I try to pretend it never happened and that it doesn't bother me, but he doesn't let me forget. It's times like this when I see them alone together, or when he passes his asshole comments reminding me that they fucked, that images flash in my mind and I want to hurt them both, because imagining Marlena with Cooper fucking kills me.

  I down the next drink. I wish I could just bail and get the hell out of here. I'm happy for Noah. I really am, but I'm jealous too. Envious is more like it. My insides are twisting because I know what I'm missing. I know the heady heights of ecstasy I experienced when I first met Marlena. I know how amazing it felt when she made me the center of her world, when I was her whole universe.

  Seeing Noah and Lexi together, how they look at each other, how they light up with a glance or get lost in a kiss, it reminds me of Marlena and me. It reminds me of the heart-pounding, pulse-racing glances and touches. It reminds me of the primal need to get her alone and feel her pressed up against me, the yearning to thrust myself inside her, steaming up windows, working us both into a sweat.

  Most of all, it reminds me of the promises we made as her eyes shone when she looked at me; as if I was the sun in her universe, the one basic thing she needed for survival. All too soon the hot, raging fire burning between us died down and dimmed to little more than a spark. And now . . . now it's completely fucking extinguished.

  "Okay, you can tell me to fuck off, but I'm not going to, so you might as well tell me the truth. What's up with you and Marlena?"

  Great, as if I need to add anything else on my fucking plate, now I have to deal with Cooper. I do what I've learned to do best over the last six months, I shove all the shit deep down inside me and force a smile on my face.

  "How much have you had to drink, Coop? You're not making any sense."

  His eyes dart to the empty shot glass as I replace it with the full one waiting to be caressed in my hand as its seductive contents slide down my throat.

  "Mother fucker!" I say, slamming the glass on the counter in front of me, causing the liquid to slosh over the top and onto my hand as well as the surrounding surface area. "Of course she turned to you." I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting the bile rising in the back of my throat at the thought of Marlena pouring her heart out to Cooper, cursing me for being such a heartless dick. I imagine his arms around her, looking down into her eyes, his hand stroking her back. FUCK!

  I can't keep doing this. It's destroying me.

  "No, man. She didn't turn to me. But she was out there alone. And then she stormed back in here. Alone. And when you came in, you headed straight for the bar. Now you're here, drinking, while she's out on the floor dancing. I may be an inconsiderate asshole, but I'm not stupid."

  "Congratu-fucking-lations. You added two plus two. You solved the mystery of life, my wife is avoiding me."

  "No need to act like I shot your dog. Maybe I can help. I'm sort of a pro at pissing my wife off and making up for it. Or at least I was before we got married."

  It's true. Cooper had fuck-up after fuck-up with Selene. Now he's the perfect fucking husband since he pulled his shit together and decided to actually marry her. Ironically, that's around the time my marriage started tanking. It makes me want to blame him for what's up, or not up, between me and Marlena. As much as I'd like to pretend it's his fault, I know it has nothing to do with him. It's on me, and I don't know what it is I've done to cause it.

  I shake my head, ready to admit defeat. "No, man. We're so far beyond help, I don't think there's any hope for us anymore. We're done. Completely fucking through!"

  "That's bullshit."

  "Are you in?" Noah asks, sliding his arm around my shoulder. "I'm really sorry I didn't mention it earlier. I thought Lexi asked Marlena."

  I down another drink before turning to look at my wife laughing with her friends on the dance floor as if everything in her world is fine.

  "She probably did, and Marlena conveniently forgot about it, like she does with everything else."

  "So what did she say? Is she excited to have a night together? Seriously, if you want to blow us off and have some alone time, we'll understand."

  "She doesn't want to go. And the only alone time she's up for is alone time, away from me."

  "No way."

  "My wife hates me." I admit it. I say it out loud and it fucking slices me open. A sound escapes me. A sad, pathetic sound I try to turn into something that resembles a laugh. "My wife fucking hates me. If I drop dead here and now, she'll be relieved that she never has to fuck me again," I say, acting as if I'm trying to make a joke out of it.

  "Okay, enough of this bullshit." Cooper's hands find my shoulders. He turns me so that I'm facing Marlena, whose back is to me. "Go fix it." Cooper shoves me toward the dance floor.

  I stumble forward a step but right myself quickly, considering the amount of tequila I downed in such a short time. It hasn't hit me yet, but I know when it does, I'm done for. At this moment, I don't give a fuck.

  "I can't fix this. Don't you get it? Her eyes glass over when she looks at me, and when I touch her," this is the hardest part to admit. "She doesn't feel a fucking thing when I touch her."

  "Then go set her straight. Don't ask her if she wants to go, tell her she's going. And if she doesn't like it, make her want to go."

  "How the fuck am I supposed to do that when she won't give me the time of day?"

  Cooper smirks and turns to Noah. "What do you think? You think he's got it in him?"

  Noah looks me up and down. "I don't know. He's been out of the game for a long time."

  "You guys suck. You know that?" I shake my head and reach for another drink. Cooper takes the glass from me and puts it back on the bar.

  "No, man. We don't suck. We're going to help you win your woman back."

  *

  I don't think Cooper's half-baked idea is going to work, but he's right. At this point I have nothing to lose. If I don't go for it with everything I have, I've already lost it all and I can't let it end like this. After dictating a note I'm having a waiter deliver to Marlena, ordering her to meet me in the bridal room, Cooper disappears with a couple of candles he manages to wrangle up.

  I look down at my watch. He told me to wait for five minutes, and three have passed already. As if on cue, Lexi saunters over to Noah. The intensity of her stare threatening to conquer any obstacle between them makes me envious. What I wouldn't give to see that look on my wife's face again.

  "Are you trying to hide from me, party boy? Do you think that's going to get you out of dancing?" she asks, adjusting his tie.

  "Never, Mrs. York. Just catching my breath so I can do this." He yanks Lexi against him. Her eyes widen with excitement as her breath catches in her throat. Neither cares that I'm standing all of twelve inches away. Noah bends her down into a low dip before his mouth covers hers and he goes tonsil diving. The clinking sound of spoons on glasses fills the room. The crowd wants more kissing, and the newlyweds are happy to oblige. I look away until I see them straightening up again.

  Lexi's giggles while her fingers play with the buttons on his shirt and she looks up at him with a coquettish smile. "Why, Mr. York, if you keep that up, I might not be able to wait until we get to the hotel."

  "That's the idea."

  Noah winks at me before leading her onto the dance floor. Maybe my friends are right. When was the last time I grabbed Marlena like t
hat? I shuffle through memories, but all I am coming up with is before she got pregnant. That can't be right. I haven't grabbed her passionately in over two years? No way. No wonder she's so distant, between the lack of intimacy and the constant bickering.

  Okay. I'm doing this, I tell myself as I head toward the room reserved for the bridal party. Cooper and Noah will keep the girls occupied and keep Allie and Mickey in their sights so I don't get interrupted. I'm free and clear.

  Once the waiter hands the note to my wife, I disappear and close myself in the small room. How the hell did Cooper do it? Two candelabras are giving off enough light to offer a seductive atmosphere in the darkness. They sit on either side of an unopened bottle of champagne, along with two flute glasses, in front of a vanity mirror.

  My stomach swirls with nervous tension. I'm fully aware my wife might tell me to fuck off and scared to death she'll do just that. I've always wanted her. Always. But not with the type of desperation I feel now. And I never tried to control or dominate her in the bedroom. I'm not sure how she'll react, because that's pretty much exactly what I'm going to do.

  My head is buzzing from the alcohol. I'm lightheaded and giddy. I'd be full of shit if I don't admit to being turned on. A lot turned on. My cock is already straining against my pants. I wouldn't have the courage to try this sober.

  I'm the little engine that could, I tell myself. I think I can, I think I can. I head over to the champagne bottle and pop the cork. As the bubbles effervesce and spill over, so does my confidence. Fuck the little engine. I'm a big fucking steam train about to power his way through this. I can do this. I will do it. Marlena won't know what hit her.

  *

  The door opens while I'm pouring champagne into the flute glasses. I look in the mirror in front of me and meet the stare of my drop-dead-gorgeous wife. Just this glimpse of her in the candlelight not only has my heart skipping a beat, but it hits me right below the belt. Fuck, I want her.

  "What the hell is this?" Marlena asks, feeling along the wall for the light switch, cooling me off a bit.

  Extending the glass of champagne to her, I approach, nervous she's going to shoot me down. I don't think I can handle it if she does. Then we really are fucking over. She reaches for the glass, but I pull it just out of her reach, teasing her, setting the mood for what's about to happen between us.

  Right before our chests touch, she takes a step back. I give her a knowing smile. She doesn't realize, unlike what happened outside earlier, I'm not backing down this time. I advance on her until she's cornered herself.

  Now she has no choice, she can't run off. She'll have to get through me first, and that means she'll have to touch me. Once I feel her hands on my body, I'll do what I have to keep them there.

  I won't let her turn away either. I'll pull her against me so we're chest to chest and nestle my lips along her neck. I'll kiss away the memories of the things I said earlier; until I make her forget everything but the feel of my lips on her warm skin.

  "Would you like some?" I ask, holding the glass in front of her.

  She nods.

  I dip my pointer and middle fingers into the glass and rub them along her bottom lip.

  She grabs my wrist and shoves it away from her mouth, still in bitch mode. "Get my sexy ass in here before you spank it?" she asks with a raised brow. "I'd like to see you try."

  "Don't tempt me, Marlena." My eyes are locked on hers a moment before I drop them down to her plunging neckline. "I'll do it. And I'll make sure you like it."

  "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

  "I'm beyond drunk." I admit, meeting her eyes again. "I'm fucking plastered. And I want you." I trace the top of the dress with my pointer finger, not breaking eye contact with her. "I want you so bad the second you walked in here, I got a raging hard on." I take her free hand and place it on my cock so she can feel the truth behind my words. "I need to touch you. Here. Now. Is that okay?"

  She hesitates before nodding. With that, another ounce of courage shoots through my veins.

  "What I really want," I drop my voice to a whisper and bring my mouth close to her ear, "is to spank your ass hard for even thinking I want another woman. I want to feel the heat of your ass turning pink under my palm, and then I want to spread your legs wide and fuck you. Fuck you until your legs shake and your body trembles. I want you so hot and bothered that you beg me not to stop, because all you can think about is that wave of pleasure building inside you, growing with each thrust, so that nothing outside of this room exists."

  I take a small sip of champagne, waiting for my words to sink in. She doesn't move. Doesn't say anything. Instead she stares at me, fire burning in her eyes. I'm just not sure if anger or desire is at the root of that fire.

  My heart thrums hard against my chest, because I mean every word I just said, and the fact that she hasn't run off screaming for the hills has me thinking I found something. I struck gold. Taking a chance, I lean in and press my lips against hers. She hesitates a moment, and I'm worried this is the moment our marriage officially ends, but her lips move slightly in response to me. My pulse quickens. I'm filled with hope and deepen the kiss, slipping my tongue into her mouth, brushing it, massaging it against hers.

  Forcing myself to break away from her, I rest my forehead against hers, breathless. I take a long look in her eyes again, making sure she's still with me. Not only is she with me, but she hasn't looked at me with that kind of all-consuming heat in ages. I take a few deep breaths, as if the more oxygen I suck in, the more courage I'll have to keep at this.

  "I know you're mad at me. I deserve it. But please, let me make it up to you. You can tell me off later, but right now I need you. I need to touch you, and to know you want me to touch you. Say it, Marlena. Say you want me to touch you."

  Her eyes drop.

  Disappointment slithers into my mind, but I shove it back.

  "Tell me, Marlena." I order, inching my fingers below her low-cut neckline into the cup of her bra, teasing the top of her nipple. "Do you want me to touch you?"

  "Yes," she answers meekly.

  "Good. Because I want to touch every inch of your hot body."

  I dip my fingers into the champagne glass once more and swipe my dripping fingertips along her bottom lip. Her tongue flicks over the remnants of champagne left behind.

  "Good girl." My voice is low, and fuck is my dick hard. "You want more?"

  She pauses, shooting her eyes to the right, and then left. I'm half-panicked because I'm afraid she's going to think I'm some sort of freak, and she's going to turn around and walk out.

  She nods.

  My pulse rate spikes. It's off the charts.

  I dip my fingers in the flute one last time. This time, I press them between her lips, uncertain of how far to take it, but her eyelids are heavy and she's breathing hard. "Suck," I order, shocked when her tongue hugs my fingers and her lips tighten around them.

  I close my eyes and imagine her warm tongue cupping and running up my shaft, her lips closing tight around me. I pull my fingers in and out of her mouth, imagining one of the many things I plan for us to do later.

  When I can't take being teased anymore, I bring the glass to my lips and empty the champagne into my mouth before kissing her. She opens her mouth willingly, and I transfer the liquid to her.

  "Do you want more?"

  "Yes, please." She's breathless.

  "Don't move." I give her a stern look before I step away to refill the glass and grab the other one.

  Marlena's leaning back with her palms against the wall, mouth open and chest heaving. I haven't seen her this turned on in a long time. Too long. If I try, I think she'll let me fuck her right here against the wall, but that's not the plan. The plan is to build the anticipation for later.

  Before handing over her champagne, I steal a glance at my hands. They are nice and steady. Good. At least I'm not showing how nervous I am as I step toe to toe with my beautiful wife.

  My mouth covers hers aga
in. Even though she's complying, I don't believe she's fully given herself over to me yet. My tongue demands its way back in and around her mouth as it takes its time to explore her in a way I haven't done in forever. She reaches up for my hair, her fingers thread through it and tug. She's pulling me closer, pressing her tits into my chest. Her hands slide down to my shoulders and grip me tight as her soft, pliable body presses against mine.

  My mouth drops to her neck. Still holding a glass in either hand, I press my hips into her so she can feel how hard I am. She moans, and I know I'm right where I need to be. I pull away and hand her a glass of champagne.

  "Drink."

  "Okay."

  As she sips the liquid, I dip my fingers into my glass and wipe them against her neck. She moans as I lap it off. I repeat it, continuing my journey across her neck. Before moving on, I let drops of champagne fall between the valley of her tits. My mouth aches to wrap around one of her hardened nipples. Not yet, I remind myself.

  "Troy." My name passes her lips in a whisper of wanting as I drop to my knees in front of her and place my glass on the floor.

  "That's right, baby. I want to make you feel good. Tell me how. Tell me what you want."

  I stop a moment, but she doesn't say anything. My hands move under the satiny material of the floor-length bridesmaid dress. I take my time skimming my fingers up her legs, starting at her ankles, moving up slowly, caressing her skin along the way until I reach my destination. I hook my fingers into her panties and rub my thumbs back and forth.

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  Longing burns in her eyes, but I need her to know that in case I cross a line, she can stop anytime she wants.

  "No," it comes out as a whisper. I notice she hasn't finished her champagne.

  "Drink it. All of it," I order, waiting until she brings the glass up to her lips to rip her thong off.

  "Troy!" her shocked voice breaks the heavy silence between us.

  "Shh."

  "What are you doing?"

  I slip a finger between her folds, feeling her slickness. She's dripping wet. It's all the encouragement I need.