In Love With Ms. Manoban

Part 52

Lisa

We arrived at the sea side retreat that we agreed on for our honeymoon. A place where we can just be, away from the rest of the world, away from my problems. The sound of the waves through the window did little to calm me. My husband on the other hand was in awe of the cabin as he makes a comment on the place. I couldn't focus on anything, barely registering the words he was saying. Tonight, we were going to... do the deed. It's been months since a man has seen my naked body, and it was much different than it is now. Although, I was excited, the simple thought filling me with arousal, my husband seeing me fully was what really consumed my thoughts

"You want to take a shower, Li?" I hear outside of the bubble I was in. I turn to my husband, slightly confused. "Or we can take a bath. Together." He brightens up at this as he pulls me closer. "I'm so happy I made you my wife. I love you more that anyone else in the world." The tender kiss he places on my lips soothes me. 

I nod distractedly, melting in his arms. Jeremiah takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom with an attached bathroom, that had see through glass. He leans over to fill up the bathtub, adding rose petals and bath salts that were gifted by the staff. When Jeremiah finally turns to me, I nervously fidget with my dress.

"Can you help me with my dress?" I asked, nervously, before turning around, facing the bath mirror. He approaches from behind, delicate fingers grabbing at my zipper as we make eye contact through the mirror. Tension builds as his fingers lower down my back, the shoulder of my dress slackening, leaving a peek of my breasts for his eyes to see. My husband inhales deeply, boosting my ego. 

Jeremiah begins to take off his own shirt, the suit jacket long forgotten at the reception where he discarded it to dance. I turn to see his bare chest, immediately running my right hand against the taut skin. He kisses me as gently as he did before, no rush in our movements. When my dress pools around my feet, he appreciates my body, washing away every nerve. Not long after, we step into the tub, my back bracing against Jerry's chest. He kisses along my neck, my cheeks, my jaw, and when my mouth opens with a gasp, he captures that breath, his lips surrounding mine.

After washing our bodies, mostly keeping our hands to ourselves with the occasional grazing of skin, we exit the tub and I instinctively cover myself with a robe, a shiver from the wind immediately bringing back my nerves. As Jerry flushes out the bath water, I face the mirror once again. Opening the robe to look at myself. My confidence that I was building slips away. My belly is rounder, and my skin softer, littered with more stretch marks than the last time I was with someone.

My husband notices. He always notices. He steps closer, gently holding my arms as he turns me to face him. When he asks what was wrong, I tried to assure him that everything was fine. But of course, he doesn't let it go. I'm surprised at the way I never get annoyed with him in these moments. I just know he loves and wants to make my life easier.

"I don't feel... beautiful. I feel awkward," I finally admit, my eyes automatically closing. The next moment I feel his hands on my belly and I open my eyes to seem him knelt on the bathroom floor. 

"You're carrying a life, Li. Our baby. And I have never found you more beautiful." His words are honest, lacking pity and hesitation. Just filled with admiration. I let him hold me as he leads me to the bed, and I feel safe, wanted. He kisses me, slow and reverent, as if he's worshipping every part of me. He hugs me close to him, making no move to go further, and as we drift off to sleep that night, my heart beats uncomfortably again.

The next morning, my heart is heavy. My husband didn't touch me. Why? The word plagues my mind, but I can't seem to bring it to my tongue. So as he brings breakfast to me in bed, I remain quiet about it. He kisses me softly before placing the tray over my legs. It is beautifully decorated, filled with ricotta crêpes with honey, a beautiful rose in a small vase and a few delicious fruits, compliments of our stay. He feeds my and I feed him, a soft romantic feeling filling the room. I love my husband. My husband loves me. But why won't he touch me?