It’s been one month since I’ve been home, and Ari has fussed about my well-being every single day. He’s driving me crazy with his attention and I know he means well, but he has barely touched me. He’s so concerned with hurting me that he doesn’t realize that he is the one doing the hurting now.
I want my husband back.
What happened was terrible and my bruises have finally faded, yet he still won’t touch me. All I want him to do is claim me, to make me his, to hold me. He seems to see me as glass now, one touch and I’d shatter into a million pieces that are impossible to put back together.
I’m stronger than that.
And to show him I’m better, I’m currently cutting all the laces in his shoes.
When the last of the laces are done, I get rid of my evidence by shoving it in my nightstand drawer along with the scissors. Just in time too because Ari comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and my eyes roam down his chest. He missed a few water droplets and I want nothing more than to lick them from his skin.
I nibble my bottom lip, my eyes stopping at the large bulge under his towel. Even flaccid, he’s impressive. It lies against his thigh, the ridge of the crown the most noticeable. No one has any business looking so damn good.
Before he heads to the closet, he kisses me on the cheek, and for some reason, that hurts me more than him ignoring me. My stomach turns from stress or anxiety from thinking that he doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe my time with Bianchi made him want me less? I sprint to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it so I can be alone. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m heaving up my breakfast.
I groan, flushing it so I don’t have to look at it. I push myself to my feet and brush my teeth, then remember that I’m late for my period.
“Tesoro, are you okay?” Ari asks from behind the door.
“I’m fine,” I mutter around my toothbrush. “Not feeling well is all.”
“I know it’s been hard. I’m here for you in any way I can be. In any way you want me to be,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get to you sooner.”
The regret in his voice has me spitting the toothpaste out so I can speak. “It isn’t your fault,” I reply. “Don’t blame yourself.” I open the door to talk to him, but he isn’t there. Is that what his distance is about? He thinks it is his fault? It’s mine. I should have never left the safety of the house.
With a long exhale, I shut the door, not knowing where to begin to fix my relationship with Ari.
My stomach turns again, and I place my hand against it, waiting for the nausea to pass. When it does, I bend down and open the cabinets to vanity, rummaging through our things until I find the box I’m looking for. Ari bought a box of pregnancy tests when I first arrived. I honestly didn’t think I’d have to use them any time soon. I knew it took time to get pregnant and I never planned on having the earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex I have had with him.
I’m so glad I didn’t insist on going to the clinic or I would have missed out on an amazing experience.
With a deep breath, I open the box, and unwrap the test.
I do my business, click the cap back on, flush, lie it flat on the counter, then wash my hands. I know I have to wait three minutes, but why didn’t anyone tell me they were the longest three minutes of my damn life?
I tap my fingers against the counter, thinking about how to tell Ari I’m pregnant—if I am. I want to. I don’t want to keep it from him, but right now, I don’t feel like I can tell him. He’s so distant right now and I’m not sure how he’d feel knowing I’m pregnant and was pregnant during the Bianchi fiasco. He’d blame himself more.
If I am, I’ll tell him.
Eventually.
“Moment of truth,” I say to myself, reaching for the stick that has the answer that will change my life forever.
It’s positive.
I’m pregnant.
Tears gather in my eyes, and I don’t know why. I’m happy. I’m relieved. I’m scared. This was the plan. I want to be happy, but now I’m nervous to say anything to Ari. He treats me like I’m broken now. I can’t imagine how he’ll treat me when he finds out.
I tuck the test back in the package, then slip it into the box it came in. I flip the box over, so it doesn’t look like I opened it and set it inside the cabinet.
I open the door and see Ari standing in front of the closet, holding up a pair of shoes.
“Oh, really? Are we back to this, Tesoro?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, trying to keep my composure but the words ‘I’m pregnant’ are on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him. I want to scream at him.
But nothing comes out.
He drops his shoes and lifts his brow. “You don’t? So all of my shoelaces have gone missing on their own? They just upped and grew legs?”
“I guess,” I say as I head to the bedroom door.
I open it, but Ari is behind me, slamming it shut with his palm. His back is against my front and the warmth from his body seeps into me. The air becomes thick with tension and his other arm comes up to cage me in.
His nose brushes against my neck and he inhales, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot under my ear. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” He drags his lips down my neck and I duck under his arm.
And I push him. “Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me!” I shout at him, swinging the door open to march down the hallway.
I run down the steps and exit the front door, Gianni straightening as he sees me leave.
“Rosie? What’s wrong? Oh.” He falls short when he notices my husband behind me. “Don’t leave the grounds.”
“Oh, yeah. I believe I learned my lesson last time.” I start running through the yard, the grass tickling under the pads of my feet.
“Rosie!” Ari shouts after me, but I don’t stop.
My arms pump as I run, gaining speed, trying to go as fast as I can. The breeze flows against my face, drying the tears on my cheeks.
The woods come to view, and I start running under the canopy of the trees. The pine needles snap under me and I jump over any fallen logs. It’s freeing, letting out all this frustration. My body burns, my lungs hurt, but my mind feels clear.
An arm wraps around me and we stumble. We fall, but Ari turns us so when we fall, I land on him and his back hits the ground.
“Let me go!” I fight to get out of his grasp and we both get to our feet, but he pushes me against the nearest tree, his hands grasping my hips.
“I’m never going to let you go. That is something that will never happen. Do you understand me?” he growls.
“It seemed like you were. The last month you have barely looked at me, barely touched me, barely have done anything and now you say you miss me?” I try to push him away again, but he’s solid. His feet are planted firm on the ground and his fingers curl into my hips to keep me pinned.
“Because I hated myself!” He raises his voice, and it bounces from the trees. Birds fly away from the unexpected boom sounding from him and the eaves rustle from their departure. His left hand slides up my body, cupping my jaw. “I hate myself for what happened to you. It’s my fault. He should have never gotten his hands on you and every time I look at you, guilt sinks in. I failed you. I’m sorry.” His forehead rests against mine. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. “It isn’t your fault. I’m the one who left, but you have to understand the way you’ve been the last month, it’s left me alone. It’s left me wondering if you wanted me at all. If you regretted me.”
“Tesoro.” He tugs on a curl, watching it bounce. “I want to make something very clear. I could never regret you. I regret many things in my life. I regret not protecting you better. You? You’ve become my favorite obsession, the one thing that occupies more of my thoughts than anything else in this world. You are on my mind when I wake up and when I sleep, you are my dreams. Regret is something that isn’t even in the same space as you. It isn’t near you. You have quickly become hope after a long day of not feeling any.”
I kiss him, not wanting him to back away or change his mind about getting close to me. He meets my hungry kiss with his own. I groan when I feel his mouth on mine, soft and demanding. His tongue wraps around mine, deepening our connection. Desire builds between us, like a fuse that’s been lit and we’re waiting to explode.
I palm the bulge in his pants, and he moans.
“I want you,” I whisper. “Please. Please, Ari.” I unzip his pants, freeing his cock and wrap my hand around it. I stroke it and he pushes my shorts and panties to the side, not undressing me, not waiting for us to be in the house. He wraps my legs around his waist, and I curl my arms around his neck to hold on.
And he guides his cock to my entrance and in one thrust, sinks in.
We groan together in unison.
“Oh, Tesoro, you feel so fucking good. I’ve missed your pussy clenching around my cock. I’m never going that long again without you.” He rams into me, my back sliding against the rough bark of the tree. “You’re mine. I’m not leaving this pussy until I know you’re pregnant. All fucking day, all night, all week, I’m going to be inside you.” He yanks my head back, wrapping my hair around his fist and using it as support to drive into me harder.
Now is the chance for me to tell him I’m already pregnant. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I open my mouth to speak them, but a steady moan follows instead.
“I have to have you bound to me in every way, Tesoro.” He places his head against my shoulder, curling his hips with more force and I cry out.
“Ari. You feel so good. Oh god, don’t stop. You’re so deep. More. Harder.”
He pulls out of me and spins me around, bending me over until my hands are braced against the tree. He pushes my shorts and panties to the side again. Since I’m so wet for him, he thrusts in easily, all the way to the hilt.
With a firm grip of my waist, he pounds into me, the sound of our skin slapping together with every thrust echoes through the forest.
“Fuck, I’m going to come. You feel too good.” His hand disappears down the front of my shorts and underneath my panties. Ari finds my clit, pinching, rolling, and lightly tugging on it. My body reacts immediately. My thighs tremble from his touch and the harder he fucks me, the wetter I become. “Fuck yes, that’s it. Damn it, Rosie, you take my fucking cock so well. You were made for me.” His hips stutter and he buries his face in the back of my neck, groaning my name while he comes.
My orgasm hits me a second later and I squeeze his cock with every spasm that racks my body. I try to pull him deeper, and his hands caress my back, then curl around my shoulders. He lifts me to his chest, his cock still hard and slowly rocking in and out of me.
I don’t want him to leave me yet.
He turns my head, kissing me lazily. There’s no rhythm to the kiss, it’s tired and messy, but I love it.
“I can’t wait for you to be pregnant,” he whispers in my ear.
The words are on the tip of my tongue again, but I don’t speak them.
