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Selected Praise for

Kayla Perrin

Erotic Fiction

Getting Even

“This story of exquisitely plotted revenge will have every woman who has ever been ‘done wrong’ quietly cheering.… This is sexy erotica.”

—Library Journal

“Getting Even is one wild ride!…Perrin is an author who belongs on your must read list. Don’t miss Getting Even!” —Romance Reader at Heart

“[A] writer that everyone should read.”

—Eric Jerome Dickey

Getting Some

“A very highly erotic, captivating tale…the sex scenes are plenty and burn-your-fingers-off-the-page hot & steamy.”

—RAWSISTAZ Reviewers

“[This] solid, enjoyable novel…takes the reader down

an intriguing emotional path, from sorrow to ecstasy and

back again—it was well worth it.”

—Romance Reader at Heart

“Ms. Perrin goes all out with this story as she enters a world of eroticism… definitely a roller-coaster ride that had me hooked

from the beginning…definitely worth reading.”

—Romance in Color

Obsession

Kayla Perrin

This book is for my editor,

Susan Swinwood.

Thanks for your faith in my

stories and all your support!

prologue

The tip of the feather inched its way along my bottom lip. Such a light, wispy touch, but it sent a jolt of heat through my body, causing me to part my lips and emit a shuddery moan.

Another stroke. This time across my upper lip. My naked body quivered.

Quivered with anticipation of the pleasure that was to come.

The feather traveled lower, over my chin, then crossed the expanse of my neck from left to right. Right to left. All with agonizing slowness.

Then it stopped. Abruptly. Five seconds went by. I held my breath, waiting for what would come next. The blindfold over my eyes prevented me from seeing, but also heightened my sense of excitement. I could hear every sound in the room, smell everything. Mostly, I heard only my own raspy breaths and the whirring of the ceiling fan above the bed. But I could smell the desire in the room, clinging to drops of warm moisture in the air. I could smell the sweat dampening his skin. The scent was musky and heady.

And arousing.

When the feather caressed my left nipple, my body jerked, making my wrists and ankles pull against the ties that bound me to the bed.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I responded, surprised to find my voice faint. “Yes,” I repeated, louder this time.

Once again, nothing. My hips writhed. I groaned softly. I was eager for his touch now. Desperate for it.

“Patience, bella,” he murmured.

“Easy for you to say,” I told him. “You have total control over my body right now.” Total control over my pleasure.

“Have I disappointed you before?” he asked.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Never.”

“And I will not disappoint now.”

The feather touched down between my rib cage, then traveled south, where it dipped into my belly button. It continued its lazy journey into my strip of pubic hair, then stopped—just when I wanted it most.

I whimpered. “Please, don’t make me beg.”

He didn’t say a word. Several seconds passed and nothing. I strained to hear past the woo-woo sounds the ceiling fan was making.

Soft footfalls on the carpet, then the creaking of the bedroom door.

What? Was he leaving me here?

I counted ten more seconds, and when he didn’t return, I began to struggle against the ties that bound me. The headboard rattled as I pulled and yanked. Futilely. The knots were too tight, preventing my escape.

And then I heard the sound of footsteps again. He was coming back into the room. I exhaled audibly.

“Look at you,” he said. “Your body writhing. Did you think I was going to leave you here while I went and watched a baseball game?”

I didn’t answer. I suddenly felt foolish. I had been afraid that he’d left me here, totally exposed and helpless to escape until he freed me. I’d been under his complete control before, yet this was the first time I’d felt such a moment of panic.

Why?

Because he seemed different today. From the moment I’d arrived, I could sense a certain intensity level in his looks and his touch.

Something darker.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” he said. “I would never leave you. You and I, we’re connected in a way we can’t control.”

I swallowed. Did I sense something ominous in his tone? Or was I a little unnerved because I was bound and blindfolded?

How could a person be unnerved and extremely aroused at the same time?

“Do you trust me?” he asked. He was very close to me now. Maybe a foot away. I could tell by the sound of his voice.

I gyrated my hips, a motion that would please him, given the view he had of my pussy with my legs spread the way they were. “Touch me,” I said. My chest heaved with each breath. “Touch me before I die.”

“Do you trust me?” he repeated, and I felt the weight of his body on the bed, but I couldn’t tell where he was.

“Yes. Yes, I trust you.”

“Completely?” he asked, his warm breath suddenly tickling my clitoris, and my God, I almost came.

“Yes, yes. Completely, I trust you. Please touch me. Baby…”

I cried out when something cold and wet stroked my clit. What? The sensation had me confused. I’d expected the warmth of his tongue.

The cold and wet brushed against my inner thigh now, and I finally placed what it was. A cube of ice.

He stroked my pussy again with the ice cube. My nub clenched. My hips jerked.

“I wonder if I could make you come like this,” he said softly, and stroked me with the ice again.

“I don’t know. It feels good, but it’s so cold…”

The bed squeaked as he got up. Where was he going now? “Baby, please,” I protested.

His lips brushed against mine. They were cold and wet. From the ice. My body writhed, my not so subtle cue that I wanted him. On top of me. Inside me. Fucking me until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

He kissed my jaw, then trailed his tongue to my earlobe and suckled. He whispered, “Do you love me?”

“You know I love everything that you do to me,” I quickly replied, and that was the absolute truth. I craved this man’s touch in a way I wasn’t sure was healthy. “Even if you make me wait for it.”

The ice cube circled my nipple, and my flesh tightened instantly. A moment later, I felt the flick of his hot tongue. Just a flick though, not nearly enough. I arched my back, pushing my breasts forward.

“Do you love me?” he repeated.

Slowly, I lowered my back. He was different today. Why was he suddenly asking me about love, knowing my situation? Knowing the circumstances under which we’d come together?

“I know you love this.” He began stroking my clit with his thumb. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Mmm, yes. I love that.” I began to pant, close to the edge. “I can never get enough of your hands on my body.”

“What about my tongue?” He adjusted his body between my legs, and I bit down on my bottom lip in anticipation. The moment his tongue came down on me, my hips bucked and I started to whimper.

“Baby, I love your tongue. I can’t get enough of your tongue. Ohhh.”

He suckled me until I was crying from the pleasure and on the verge of exploding. Then he pulled back, denying me my release.

“No, no. Please,” I begged. “I need you, baby. I need—”

“Do you love me?” he asked again.

“Yes!” I cried out. “I love you. I love you.”

“Oh, baby. I love you, too.” Hastily, he untied my legs and hooked them over his shoulders and began to devour me. He sucked, he nibbled, he buried his tongue inside me. He ate greedily, as though my pussy was the last meal he would ever have.

My whole body convulsed as my orgasm gripped me, gripped me harder than anything I’d ever experienced before. It zapped me of my energy. Stole my breath. Left me shuddering as though a speeding train had just rocketed through my body.

Even through my pleasure, I was aware that something had changed between us.

I wasn’t sure it was for the better.

1

Six weeks earlier…

I awoke to the sounds of fucking coming from the other room.

For several moments I lay on my bed, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. My right temple throbbed, evidence of too many margaritas that evening, and a general lack of sleep over the past few days.

Yawning, I rolled over and glanced at the bedside clock.

Three-thirteen in the morning.

“Right there…yes, right there. Ohhh…”

Despite my headache, I couldn’t help giggling. Maybe Marnie thought I was dead to the world and therefore didn’t think she needed to be quiet. Or maybe she didn’t care. All I knew, as I lay there, was that she and the guy she’d picked up were screwing like this was their last night on earth—if the loud moans and screams coming from the other room were any indication.

“Yes, yes! Fuck me, baby!” Marnie screamed.

I hugged my pillow and closed my eyes, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Not with the sexual Olympics going on in the next room.

I heard a consistent banging on the wall—likely the headboard. At least, I hoped it wasn’t someone’s body part hitting the wall. And how thin were these walls, anyway, that I could hear their every grunt and moan?

I debated getting out of bed and going to Marnie’s bedroom door. But the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass her and the stud in the room with her.

So I stayed where I was, keeping my eyes closed and hoping I’d somehow be able to get back to sleep.

A loud crash in the next room had me bolting upright, alarm shooting through me. What the—

Laughter.

I lay back down. Whatever had happened, Marnie and her lover weren’t concerned. The sounds of their lovemaking picked up right where they’d left off.

The moaning and groaning and occasional giggles had me suddenly missing my husband. Missing the way we were in the beginning. Spontaneous, and frisky, and a lot like Marnie right now— not caring who heard us if we were in a hotel fucking.

It had been four whole days since I’d seen him, since I’d left on this trip with Marnie, my long-time best friend, to Grand Bahama Island. Marnie had been in the dumps because she and her fiancé had broken up, and she needed a getaway.

I’d suggested this trip as a way to get her mind off of her heart-break. And it had been a blast. Marnie and I had had a fun four days of partying like we were college kids with endless energy, and Marnie hadn’t mentioned Brian once. I doubt that between ogling hot young men and downing flaming Sambuca shots she’d even had time to think about him. The trip had gone a long way to mending Marnie’s broken heart.

I supposed that after being engaged for a couple of years, she was entitled to get her freak on.

Even if I was in the other room.

I couldn’t help but listen to them, and I couldn’t help feeling slightly envious. What I heard coming from Marnie’s room was exactly the kind of sex I wanted to be having with my husband. After eight years of marriage, Andrew and I had fallen into a bit of a routine. Sex on Saturday nights. Sometimes Sunday mornings as well. It was a good week if we also got in a mid-week fuck.

At the beginning of our relationship, we used to go on lots of romantic weekend trips and screw like bunnies. With both of us working full-time now, that kind of spontaneity was impossible. But I still adored my husband, and he adored me. He could still look at me from across a room and make my body tingle the way he first had ten years ago in college.

I suddenly wanted to talk to him. Call him and have some spontaneous phone sex. Get him in the mood to give me the kind of homecoming I was craving.

Yes, it was after three in the morning, but that’s what spontaneous was—not worrying about the time nor the place.

I used my cell phone, having learned that it was more expensive to use a credit card to call from the hotel phone. I punched in the digits to my home in Orlando, then lay back on my pillow as I waited for Andrew to pick up.

My lips were slightly parted, poised to say something dirty the moment Andrew answered the phone. But after four rings, it went to voice mail.

Disappointed, I sighed softly. I debated hanging up and calling him back. I wanted to tell him how much I wanted to touch him, stroke him. How badly I wanted him inside me. And while I was at it, I’d even ask if he would take a plane and meet me here, or meet me in Fort Lauderdale, where Marnie and I had boarded the Discovery Cruise Line to head to the Bahamas.

Spontaneity and all that.

But common sense got the better of me when the beep sounded and I heard my voice prompting me to leave a message. It was the middle of the night, and even though I was desperate to talk to him, I couldn’t call Andrew back. It wouldn’t be fair to him. He had to be up for work in the morning. Besides, I’d be seeing him in less than twenty-four hours.

Real sex would be far better than phone sex anyway.

Though I didn’t think I would, sometime during the night I’d drifted off to sleep. I awoke with a start and found Marnie sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she crooned when my eyes met hers.

I took a moment to register that she was really there, that this wasn’t a dream. I could smell the fresh scent of some sort of floral soap, could see that her short black hair was wet and slicked back. Yep, she was definitely here. And she looked surprisingly well rested for a woman who’d spent most of the night screwing her brains out. Her dark complexion never gave anything away.

“You’d still be sleeping too if you were woken up by the sounds of serious fucking.”

“You heard us?” Marnie asked, sounding surprised.

“You’ve got to be kidding. How could I not hear you?”

“Oops,” Marnie said sheepishly.

“Is the room a total disaster zone or what? Cuz it sure sounded like you were doing some serious damage to it.”

“We broke one of the lamps.” Marnie spoke almost proudly.

“What?” But I was really wondering, how? “And you’re smiling about that?”

“Don’t worry. I already went to the front desk to let them know, and I paid to replace it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Though I was dead tired, I eased myself up on an elbow. Stretching, a yawn escaped my throat.

Marnie grinned from ear to ear. “And trust me, I’m not smiling because we broke a lamp.”

I shook my head in mock reproof. “I can’t believe you’re up already. After the workout you got.”

“I know.” Marnie sighed happily. “He only left an hour ago, so I knew there was no way I’d be getting any sleep if I was going to make it to that boat later today. I took a shower, had a couple cups of coffee and, amazingly, I feel fine.”

“You’d never know. Not with that, ‘I’ve been fucked so hard, I could die a happy woman’ look on your face.”

“I know.” Marnie giggled. “It was incredible, Sophie. Out of this world.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I feel like I was a spectator. All I was missing was the popcorn and the dildo.”

Marnie roared with laughter. “I should be embarrassed—but, what can I say, I’m shameless.”

I yawned again, then asked, “So you like this guy?”

“I like his cock. No, I love his cock.”

Marnie had been my best friend since eighth grade, and we didn’t have a problem speaking explicitly to each other. But if the parents of any of our students happened to overhear us talking when we were out on the town, they’d likely be pulling their kids from our classes.

Of course, we didn’t have to worry about that here. And we definitely didn’t have foul mouths when we were at the front of our grade-school classrooms.

“I do like him,” Marnie went on, “but we leave today. Maybe if he lived in Orlando. Heck, if he even lived in the Bahamas. But he’s headed back to the Dominican Republic the day after tomorrow.”

“It was cute watching you two trying to talk to each other at the bar.” What Soriano had lacked in language skills he had easily made up in charm. And that radiant smile of his hadn’t hurt.

“At least he served his purpose,” Marnie said. “Which was to totally get me to forget about Brian. I don’t know if it’s because this guy was a one-night stand, but nothing Brian did in bed with me was ever as exciting as what Soriano and I did.”

“It probably was, in the beginning with Brian,” I pointed out. “New sex and all that.”

Marnie shrugged. “Maybe. But now my body knows that there’s life after Brian, and that that life can be quite exciting.”

I smiled at my friend. For her sake, I was glad. For a good three months, she had moped over the end of her relationship with Brian, and she’d needed something to get her out of her funk.

She’d already had one marriage fall apart after her husband repeatedly cheated on her, and now that she and Brian had ended things, I knew she was depressed over the thought that she’d never meet her Mr. Right.

I sat up fully and swung my feet off the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Is there any coffee left?”

“I’ll make another pot.”

“Thank you, babe. I’m going to need it.”

2

It was a little after nine in the evening when I pulled into the driveway of my Orlando home. My husband’s Cadillac Escalade was there—as I’d expected on a Sunday evening—and excited, I sprinted inside. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until we ended up naked on the living room floor.

I was hoping he would have heard me pull up and be waiting for me at the door. He wasn’t. But Peaches, our orange and white tabby, was. She purred in greeting, and I bent to give her a quick rub on the head before making my way into the living room.

Peaches followed me, clearly needing more attention. I needed Andrew.

But he wasn’t in the living room. Hadn’t he heard me? He had to be somewhere in the house, so why hadn’t he come out to welcome me home? We hadn’t seen each other in five days. Maybe it was a little corny, but I expected him to stop whatever he was doing and rush out to meet me. Sweep me in his arms and not let me go until we were both screaming as we came.

“Andrew?” I called. When he didn’t answer, I frowned. Tonight, I wanted spontaneity. And creativity.

And sex all night long.

I wandered into the bedroom, where I found Andrew lying on the bed. My frown morphed into a small smile as I regarded him. He was on his back, his lips slightly parted as he snored softly.

“Oh, baby,” I said softly. “At least you’re getting your rest, so you should be in full form when I wake you up.”

The cat rubbed her body against my legs, purring. I bent down and scooped her up, then put her out the door and closed it.

“Sorry, Peaches, but I want no spectators for this.”

I padded across the room to the bed and eased my body down beside my husband’s. He didn’t stir. I stretched out beside him and planted my lips on his.

Andrew jerked awake, his eyes widening as he saw me.

I giggled. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” he said, his voice hoarse, then cleared his throat.

“Looks like someone had a hard day,” I commented. I placed my palm on his belly and kissed his chin. “But hopefully your little nap helped you regain some energy.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after nine,” I replied. Now, I kissed his lips.

“How was your trip?”

“Fun. Marnie definitely had a good time.” I smiled inwardly, remembering just how good a time, but I’d never share that with Andrew. “The trip was great for her.”

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

Good? Why wasn’t Andrew taking me in his arms and really kissing me?

I guess he was still groggy, but I was determined to wake him up. Lowering my hand to his groin, I stroked him through his pants. Then I pressed my mouth against his and kissed him deeply.

His cock hardened, and I purred, satisfied. Feeling a surge of feminine power, I eased my body onto his and straddled him. His hands went to my breasts, gently squeezing.

I gyrated myself against him, feeling his cock through my shorts. I moved my mouth from his, to his jaw, then to his earlobe, where I nibbled gently.

“I was having some naughty thoughts last night,” I whispered.

He snaked his hands around my waist. “You were, were you?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I pulled my head back to face him. “I even called. But you didn’t answer.”

Andrew’s hands stilled and he looked at me as if he wasn’t sure he heard me correctly. “You called last night?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“What time?”

“Late,” I answered. “But either you were sleeping, or you were out on the town partying.”

I was joking, but the quizzical look he gave me told me he didn’t think I was. “I guess I was extra tired. It’s been crazy at work with that convention going on. I ended up going in yesterday, since you weren’t here. You should see insurance adjusters throw them back at the bar. And I thought they were dull.”

I slipped my hand between our bodies. His cock was no longer hard. “Hey, big boy. What’s the matter?” I pouted. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course I am.” Was I imagining it, or did he sound a tad defensive?

“Then why is it taking you so long to get me naked?” With my legs straddling him, I sat up and pulled my blouse over my head. I made quick work of unfastening my bra. “Touchme, baby. Taste my nipples. I want to you to fuck me so hard, you blow out my back.”

“Sophie,” Andrew said, his tone disapproving.

“Sorry, baby,” I said. Andrew didn’t like it when I cursed. “I just missed you, and you’re playing really hard to get right now.”

Andrew regarded me warily.

“Baby, please don’t tell me you’re too tired for this.” I began stroking him again. “I can do all the work. I just need you to be hard.”

“What exactly happened on your trip?” he asked.

“Meaning?”

“I don’t know. You seem unusually horny.”

Now I sat up and looked at Andrew with a perplexed expression. “Meaning there’s some crazy reason why I want to make love to my husband?”

Andrew’s shoulders moved in a slight shrug.

What was going on? “Do you think I did something wrong while I was away?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He couldn’t have sounded less convincing. He’d never been the jealous or possessive type, and I’d never given him a reason not to trust me. So I had no clue what was really going on here.

“To set the record straight,” I began slowly, sliding off his body, “I didn’t do a single thing you’d be mad at me for. Yeah, I had a lot to drink, stayed up late, and danced like I haven’t since I was in college, but every guy who talked to me knew that I was married.”

Andrew gave no indication that he’d heard me. Instead, he got off the bed and walked out of the room, leaving me confused. Did he not believe me, or was he simply itching for a fight? If that was the case, why was he mad? Because I’d gone away with Marnie? He hadn’t expressed any opposition to me going on the five-day trip.

I didn’t follow him. If he wanted a fight, I wasn’t going to give it to him. I put my shirt back on, knowing that for some crazy reason, I wasn’t getting any sex tonight.

The bedroom door now open, Peaches trotted into the room, determined to get some affection from me. She jumped up onto my lap. I began to massage her neck, taking some comfort from the fact that my pet would always be happy to see me.

A few minutes later, Andrew returned to the bedroom door. He stood there, resting his body against the door frame and looking conflicted.

“Are you mad at me because I went on this trip with Marnie?” I asked, getting to the point.

Andrew drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Something happened,” he said simply.

So work was bothering him. It wouldn’t be the first time that the stress from work continued to bother him when he got home. I was disappointed that his seeing me hadn’t pushed any work issues from his mind, but it was a relief to know that he didn’t believe I’d done anything to hurt him.

“Is it something serious?”

He nodded.

I don’t know why, but I got the sense that this something wasn’t a run-of-the-mill work issue. Maybe Andrew had messed something up at the hotel in a big way and head office was pissed with him. Or perhaps he was involved in a conflict with someone on his staff. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He stared into my eyes, then looked away, his face filled with angst.

“Andrew.” Just how bad was this? “You know I’ll support you no matter what.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

I frowned at him. Peaches rolled onto her back, giving me access to her stomach while she luxuriated in the attention I was giving her. “Why would you say that? Haven’t I always been there for you?”

When Andrew didn’t answer, achill crept down my spine, leaving a feeling of dread in its wake. It wasn’t like Andrew to not get right to the point. My God, something really awful must have happened.

My heart began to beat fast, several devastating scenarios jumping into my head. Had something happened to his parents? Had he gotten some awful news about his health from his doctor while I’d been away? Had he hit a child while driving?

Andrew sighed heavily. He was taking his time, gearing up to tell me the awful news, but I didn’t think my heart could take it.

“Please, Andrew. Just tell me!”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” I replied somewhat anxiously. “But I want to know what happened.”

He couldn’t look at me, making my fear worse. My eyes misted. Obviously, what had happened had been serious enough that Andrew hadn’t wanted to disturb me while I was on my trip.

I croaked, “Someone died?”

“No.”

“No?” A relieved giggle escaped my throat. “Thank God, Andrew.” I paused. Took a deep breath. “But something serious did happen, didn’t it?” Maybe he had gotten some awful news from his doctor.

“I…”

I waited. Listened. “What, baby?”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Those weren’t the words I’d expected to hear, and they caught me off guard, like biting into an apple and finding it’s filled with mold.

I gave him an odd look. “I don’t understand.”

“I…I did something. Something I’m not proud of.”

This had to be work related, some major screwup that had the head honchos breathing down his neck. God, maybe he’d been fired! Andrew was a manager at the Pelican Hotel and Resort in Kissimmee, close to Disney World, and the job had its share of stress. The people at Head Office didn’t always agree with how Andrew and his team ran things at the hotel.

But surely whatever he’d done wasn’t bad enough to get him fired.

“Jesus, this is so…” Andrew didn’t finish his statement.

“So what?” I prompted.

“I had an affair,” he blurted, so quickly that I was certain I hadn’t heard him correctly. After all, the cat’s loud purring could have made me mishear.

“What did you say?” I asked for confirmation, expecting him to say something else. Confirm for me that I’d misheard.

He looked at me now. “I had an affair.”

Stunned, I lowered the cat to the floor. As if she sensed the sudden tension in the room, she ran out the bedroom door.

“You—” I couldn’t repeat what he’d said.

“I’m so sorry,” he told me. He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I never meant to hurt you.”

All I could do was stare at Andrew. It was as though he had morphed into a stranger in front of my eyes.

“Please, Sophie. Say something.”

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

Andrew walked toward me, slowly, as if trying to corner a scared dog. I didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. I was too numb.

But when he reached for me, I reacted instinctively, slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” I suddenly heard the ragged breaths coming from my chest. I sounded awful. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—”

“Shut up. Just shut up!” I covered my ears with my hands. I wanted to block his words, as though not hearing them would make what he’d said go away.

My hands still over my ears, I stared at Andrew, my eyes imploring him to take back what he’d said. He held my gaze, but only for a few seconds. Then he looked down.

“Oh, my God.” I shot to my feet. “Oh, my God.”

“Sophie—”

Gasping, I stumbled past Andrew. I wanted to run out of the house, escape to a place where Andrew’s words wouldn’t hurt me. But as I got into the living room, my knees buckled, and I was lucky to collapse onto the sofa as opposed to the floor.

An affair? My husband had had an affair?

Andrew, the guy I’d known since I was nineteen, who had gently pursued me in college until I hadn’t been able to say no. The guy who’d given me a plastic ring in a bouquet of dandelions and told me that even though he wasn’t really proposing, he wanted me to know that one day he would.

If there had been anyone I could count on, anyone who I thought I could completely trust not to betray me in this way, it was Andrew.

My eyes filled with tears. Why, why, why? Why would he do this to me? How could he?

It wasn’t like I rolled over in bed at night and complained of being too tired to make love. If anything, I wanted it more than he did. He wasn’t as aggressive when it came to sex as he’d been in the beginning, but he also hadn’t been the tear-your-clothes-off kind of guy in the first place. That kind of man didn’t look for sex on the side when he had a wife ready and happy to please him.

No, what mattered to Andrew—or so he’d always said—was our commitment to each other. Passion could wane, but he’d assured me that our love would always be strong.

“Sophie.” He spoke softly, and I whipped my head up to see he was standing near the end of the sofa.