Debra doesn't need anyone to tell her that going from one relationship straight into another is never a good idea. Despite knowing this, she finds herself staring at a certain Marine with the body of a demigod and all covered in tattoos.
Retired Ma...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Thirty-five years of marriage. Well, damn.
I winced and looked away from the green depths of Trystan's eyes. I really couldn't give him that kind of commitment. Or any man for that matter. Not now or any time soon. A part of me seemed to shrivel up at the thought of all the years I'd have to spend with one person if I ever decided to get married, constantly loving them while hating them. Day after day. Night after night.
Risking my heart, I looked up at his face again. He was staring at me, waiting, as still as a rock under a waterfall. The shower was still running, jets of it hitting my shoulder and splashing off to wet Trystan's chest.
Just my luck. There were so many guys out there looking just to have fun, but I had to be attracted to the serious, moody type that wanted to be tied down for the rest of his life.
I wanted freedom and mind blowing sex. No strings. No attachment. I couldn't be held responsible for a man's happiness both in and out of the bedroom. It was one, or the other.
I was a recluse. I could count the amount of hours I'd seen Drake while we were living together. It was less than two hours a day give or take. I painted. And I was damn good at it. With every painting I got better and better. Which meant longer hours in the studio as I thrived to produce a work of art that would rival any of the great painters out there. I couldn't do that while saddled to a man like Trystan.
So why did I feel a flutter in my heart when he brought up the future? Why was I thinking about how handsome he would look in a tux? And why was I trying to plan out my day so I could fit him into it?
"I think most people would want what your parents have," I finally answered after a long pause.
"But you don't." His voice was pitched low. Stating a fact.
"I don't know what I want anymore. I'm not against marriage, but I just don't see myself getting married now."
Trystan smirked. "Who said anything about marrying now?"
"You didn't have to say it. It's obvious you're looking for a wife." I cupped some water in my hands. "Once you find her, I can see you proposing within six months of meeting her."
"You're probably right. I've been celibate for three years, Debra, all by choice. I had some shit to clear up and I would never drag a woman into that mess, but I'm ready now. I'm ready to share my life with a special woman. One who gets me." He touched my face lovingly, brushing callused fingers along my jawline.
I closed my eyes, my lips parting involuntarily. "I like what we have just fine."
"It's not enough," he drawled. "I want us to be best friends. I want to possess you mentally, emotionally. I want you to be mine in every sense of the word. I want your heart, your body, your submission . . ."
