Page 61 of Devotion

He’s quieter than normal as I suck him until he’s hard and then keep going, taking him deeper and harder until he ejaculates down my throat. It doesn’t feel like it normally does for me. It doesn’t feel as natural or intimate. But I manage to do a good job and even make some of those greedy sounds to convince him I’m as enthusiastic as normal.

He comes as he always does, but he eases my head back almost immediately instead of holding me in place through the aftermath. He tilts my head up and peers down at my expression again as he catches his breath.

I smile at him.

The smile is a mistake. He frowns.

“Jess, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong. How many times do I have to say it?”

“You’re going to have to say it until I believe it, and I don’t right now. Did you even want to do that for me just now?”

“Yes, I wanted it. I promise.”

“You’re not turned on.”

“Wh-what?”

“You’re not turned on. I can see it as clear as day. Usually you’re turned on after you do me, and you’re not right now.”

A legitimate excuse suddenly lands in my mental lap. “Oh. That’s not about me being upset. My period is going to start soon, and that always makes me feel a little blah. But it’s nothing bad or important.”

His eyes keep searching my face, but his posture relaxes slightly. “Okay. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was barely conscious of it before, but maybe that’s why I seemed kind of off. I’m sorry you were worried.”

He caresses one of my cheeks with his thumb. “I was.”

I gulp and drop my eyes, needing to hide my expression. How can he sound so tender when he doesn’t mean it?

“Okay.” He lets his hand run down the length of my hair and then helps me to my feet. “You go rest, and I’ll try to get more work done. Thank you for doing that for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the day is a little easier because my excuse has provided him an explanation for my altered behavior. I still want to break down into sobs at every other moment, but I manage to hold them back until it’s dark in the room and his breathing has slowed and lengthened.

He’s asleep.

Which means I can risk crying at last.

16

The next morningI wake up heavy and resigned. I should feel better today but I don’t. I still want to cry every time I remember that overheard phone conversation, and it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this is what my life looks like now.

Maybe reality hasn’t changed, but my perception of it has. And that changes everything for me.

Gabriel goes down to swim. I’m waiting when he returns after an hour and a half. He showers and then comes to lie in bed while I get the oil and start to massage him.

I’ve made it down to the back of his thighs when he suddenly pushes himself up and flips over, raising himself into a sitting position. “Okay, Jess,” he says in that stern, authoritative tone he only occasionally uses with me. “I’m not going to believe any of your excuses this morning. It’s not your period. Something is wrong with you.”

“No, it’s n?—”

“Yes, it is.” When I make one more attempt to argue, he snaps, “Stop lying to me. Stop it right now.”

His tone silences me. That deep emotional pain is shaking desperately in my chest and throat again. I stare down atmy hands, which are glistening slightly from the body oil. He interrupted our massage.

“We’ve been together for five months, Jess. I know you. I know how we are together. And something isn’t right. Please don’t lie to me about it again.”

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