His Appointed Wife

21. Wet dreams and very real Realities

But she was not his to mark. Or make love.

He sighed as he stood up.

He needed more water, his throat felt like a dry, arid desert. He opened the door, walked out and he wanted instantly to turn back, but he couldn't.

He stared at her, standing there in the light of the refrigerator, wearing what felt like something made to torture men, especially him, and he shut his eyes and sighed. She looked like sin and pleasure. She looked like the promises of hundred sleepless nights.

God. She is going to kill me.

The thing was shorter than his boxers and it had straps on her back, that showed everything to his feasting eyes.

And it was deep, seductive red.

He shuddered. If he stood there any longer, he was going to come and this was going to be faster than his first time.

Where the hell did she find this thing and why the hell is she wearing it?

This was damn middle of the night.

He almost wanted to believe that she was wearing it for him, just to torment him.

Would it be preposterous to think so?

Maybe not.

***

(Alexandra)

She woke up from a dream, a hot, bothering dream and she couldn't go back no matter how hard she tried. She told herself that what she would be trying to do was not only dangerous for her heart, but also for her body. But...

What if she wanted more and more? When it came to Logan, she was always greedy. And unsatisfied.

She shook her head as she pulled the red thingy and stared at it with a sigh. No one in their right mind would call this thing anything. A piece of cloth was what it was. She removed her white tee and put it on and the satiny silk slid against her smooth skin that made her moan.

She was going to him, but first she had to make a pit stop to prepare herself. She walked to the dark kitchen and switched on the bulb. It casted a dull blue glow over the place.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water.

"What are you wearing?" His voice sounded hoarse. It rasped against her skin, sending delicious tremors through her nerve cells. She wanted to hide, but she wore this negligee for him, so.

The night breeze was gentle and cool on her skin, and so was the refrigerator air, but she still felt hot all over when she heard him taking a step. Away from her or towards her, she had no idea. She didn't turn to him. She didn't look at him.

She was teetering and she was sure just looking at him would push her off the ledge. She wasn't ready, but she was always unprepared when it came to him. So... Better be safe than sorry. Better not turn to look at him and his temptations.

Not before she was fully ready.

She pressed the water bottle against her burning cheek and inhaled. She could hear the tik-tok of the clock and if she tried enough, she could also hear how uneven his breathing sounded. She smoothed her dress with sweaty palms.