One Reason

Chapter 3: One Flashback

Last Night....

Eric sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his hand along the scruff on his chin that had accumulated over the day.

He typically wouldn't have let it go longer than two days at the most, but his wife often griped about him shaving off her favorite part of their "head games". She absolutely loved it when he scraped his scrubby cheeks and chin along the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, teasing her, getting her all...riled...up and ready for his greedy mouth.

However, his clients expected him to at least look like he hadn't been sleeping in his office, which he had been, so he'd have so shave again tomorrow morning.

And hopefully, he could shave at home, in his own bathroom, after having played "head games" with his wife in their bed.

Shit...how long had it been since he'd tasted his wife on his lips and tongue?

Dammit—if he had to think about it, it had been too long. Glancing at the scheduling software open on his desktop computer, he counted backward. One...two...three...f— Shit! Definitely too long. With the hand holding, necessary micromanaging, ass kissing, and hoop jumping he was doing to get Beckman-Dixon to finally fucking sign the acquisition papers, he'd already missed far too much time with his wife.

An all too familiar and equally hated ache burned in his chest. God, he missed her. And he would make it all up to her soon. Maybe he'd take her out to dinner somewhere nice. Maybe take a weekend—once the deal was complete—and spoil the shit out of her. She'd like that.

It was too bad he couldn't steal her away tomorrow.

But it couldn't be helped. He had a business to run—a business she knew, all too well, was important to him, to his family, to their future. Once they finally got around to having kids, the empire Matthews before him had built, and the one he was trying to grow, would eventually be passed down to his eldest son or daughter. He wasn't a misogynist, if his daughter wanted to run the family company, he'd train her up and gladly hand her the reins when her time came. And he knew that any child he had with Marci would be as amazing, brilliant, kindhearted yet fierce—just like their momma.

"What're you thinking about so hard over there?" a familiar and welcome voice called from his office door.

He smiled at his right-hand woman, glad to see that she was actually smiling back for the first time that day. After months of working with her, side-by-side, he felt he could recognize her moods. He'd been with Marci for twelve years—four years of dating and eight years of marriage, and while he enjoyed that woman still surprised him often, he could read her like a book.

Haven't done much reading lately, that nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him. Not that he needed that reminder.

"Hilary," he said, motioning for her to come in. It wasn't like she hadn't made herself at home in his office over the last week while his personal assistant, Phil, had been on personal leave to nurse his husband who'd just undergone surgery. Hilary had volunteered to help out, adding the mountain of work his PA usually did to her already mountainous pile of work for the BD deal. She was a godsend. He appreciated her, which was why her behavior all day had been worrisome. "You finished up?"

She offered him a tired smile. "With work, yes. I couldn't read another line of another single-lined legal document without my eyes crossing."

He chuckled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "I get it," he sympathized. "Is the workload too much for you? Miles will be back soon, so that'll lighten your load considerably—"

"No, no," she interjected, shaking her head, her loose blonde curls bouncing around her face as she moved. "I've actually enjoyed doing something new. Miles made everything easy with the way he has everything streamlined on his computer. It's nothing to go in and rearrange or cancel things without having to send out memos. It's all in the system."