Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Forty-four

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun has barely risen from its slumber, I wait until Brandon walks into our bedroom before letting my towel pool at my feet. His scent permeates the air, I don’t turn to him but I catch a passing glimpse of him in the mirror.

Dressed in a navy blue suit fitted to his body, he is ready for work. I let my hairbrush slide to the floor and squat to retrieve it, making sure to give him a full view of my ass. Our eyes meet in the mirror when I stand, he thrusts his hands into his pockets, offers me a smile. His tie is loose, I should help him with it but I can’t bring myself to move.

“Good morning, wife. How was your night?”

I set the brush to the table and finger comb my curls, loving the attention my naked back is attracting. Seconds roll by, I drape the towel on the chair and offer him a forced smile.

“Fine,” I reply. He loves my hair down so I put it up in a knot at the centre of my head.

The twitch of his eyebrows must have been imagined because his face is set in that cool mask I am accustomed to when I walk up to him. He tries to keep his gaze on my face as I sashay towards him with an extra sway of my hips but his eyes linger on my breasts, my erect nipples longer than they should have. When he realises I caught him staring, he clears his throat and I touch his multicoloured tie with a smile, he never knots it right.

“Thank you,” he says when I am done. I pat his shoulder, smiling at the work I did on his tie and his hand circles my wrist to stop me from leaving. “Are you going somewhere?”

Surrounded by his scent which drills a hole into the box of memories I tucked into my heart’s archive, a corner of my lips lifts. It is easy to lean into him for a hug, appreciate his presence, relish his touch and forget the things that have happened. I rotate my hand in his grasp, he lets go with a smile too fake to be considered a smile and I shrug.

My classes don’t start until two hours and I don’t have to be there but he doesn’t need to know that. I won’t pass on this opportunity to tease and frustrate him. “Yes, school.”

He nods. “Can I drop you off?”

His voice is small, he still doesn’t know I let Clarissa borrow the Audi. My lips press into a thin line, I shake my head and the sadness that blankets his face causes my insides to curl with self-loathe. Brandon sways like he is unable to support his weight, I reach out to steady him and he offers me a weak smile while resting his hands on my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” I ask when he straightens up, scanning his face for any signs I might have missed in my eagerness to punish him. He looks fine, he always does. “Brandon?”

“I’m okay,” he says with a nod, “a bit tired.”

At night when we were both in bed and he had called my name multiple times without a response, his arm slipped around my waist. I was awake, thankful to have his chest pressed to my back, for the warmth he unknowingly provided. When he shifted after I coughed, I was still wide-eyed. The absence of his touch felt like tiny needles on my skin, his frustrations, groans as he turned and tossed pricked me until I fell into a fitful sleep.

“Maybe you need a cup of coffee,” I say, willing the sad look in his eyes to evaporate.

The smile that graces his lips disappears as soon as it comes, I shift my weight to another foot. “Maybe.” He nods, his eyes fall on my chest. “Do you want another car?”

“No.” My brows crease, so do his. “No,” I say with more certainty. “I don’t want another car.” This man resembling my husband, I don’t understand him. His open vulnerability makes my heart ache. I feel guilty. “I’m fine with transporting myself with an Uber.”