Page 35 of Burn for Me

The doors open on a different floor, and two men step in. They look at my wife longer than necessary before turning away.

I inhale slowly, trying to calm the unwarranted anger flaring, and snake my arm around her waist, pulling her back flushed with my chest. I don't give a damn if she can feel the effect she has on me as long as I know they keep their fucking distance.

Their eyes lock on mine, so I slowly drag my palm up her abdomen, refusing to break eye contact until it's wrapped around her jaw, and I'm turning her head to the side so I can whisper in her ear, “You're gorgeous.”

Placing my lips on her temple isn't enough to sedate the beast inside, threatening to claw its way out, but it's enough to redirect my urges from blood to her body. Her shoulders relax, and her head tilts into my kiss, so I glance at the mirrored wall I have her facing.

“I'm tired.” She whispers, and her eyes stay downcast, refusing to raise. How am I supposed to differentiate between her acting andher? They seem like the same person at times. I pull away, sending a warning glare to the man who looks back.

“I know, Darlin’.” The doors open, and I push us past the men. “Maybe you can relax before dinner.”

It takes a moment to find our room, but when we do, she's out of my arms–instantly, kicking off her heels and pulling at her clothes like she can't get out of them fast enough.

After locking the door and placing our stuff on the floor, I unbutton my shirt and walk around the spacious area. Velvet furniture contrasts with the dark interior, but a large fireplace sits in the main living area, casting just enough glow that you cansee with the large blacked-out curtains closed over the windows that line the far wall.

“Can you turn that off?” Jasmine mutters from the open kitchen island she's leaned against, trying to gain leverage to reach a button at the back of her blouse. I raise a brow, pausing midway to open the curtains, and she points at the mantel above the fireplace where various switches sit.

She’s scared of fire.

My mind finally catches up with the thought, so I redirect my motions. Taking a deep breath, I study all the switches, but my mind starts to wander away when I find the one to turn it off.Is she like other people when afraid? Does she want to run and hide, or does it excite her? How would she react when being close to the flames that haunt her nightmares?

I should find a secluded space so I can stop fantasizing about all the ways I could take her in this room–of all the things I could explore and all the ways I can show her that even the scariest of things can be so fucking good.

Finding the only shut door in the ample space, I open it.

Jasmine huffs as she tries to push past me with a bag, but I’m stuck staring, unable to move a step.

“I told you I'm tired, so move over and stop–” Her words trail off as I step to the side and cross my arms over my chest, exposing the thing I knew to expect but wasn't prepared for.

There’s only one bloody bed.

Thirteen

8-31-2024

I could get used to this.

-Jasmine

I saw it coming; the perfect couple doesn’t sleep in separate beds, but I had hoped to avoid this outcome. I stand at the threshold, blankly staring at the taunting piece of furniture, reeling from all my thoughts and emotions. Today has already been draining, and adding this to the mix is too much.

Sam’s voice in the living room finally sets my feet in motion. As I pass the large dresser with the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above it, I focus on the silky black duvet, taking extracare to ignore the rose petals lining the sheets. I place my bag beside the nightstand, feeling an immediate need for a bubble bath and sleep.I want to pretend I’m not even here.

Wearing a mask is always draining unless you wear it every day. I just forgot how exhausting it can be and how difficult it is to keep my wants and needs separate in the meantime. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy how he calls me “darlin',” how close he stands to me, or how he touches me. The years of yearning are finally reciprocated, but it all feels like a lie—just like my life.

I don't bother saying a word as I pull a fluffy robe from the wall, enter the bathroom, and lock the door behind me. I can live my dream life before it’s all buried six feet under, right? He doesn’t have to know I’m pretending it’s real, and it’s not like I’ll ever have to tell him. I start the bath and grab the nearest bottle of bubbles to fill the tub. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help build something more between us, and we can explore it when all this chaos is over.

I sift through the drawers until I find a razor to break a blade from and cut the suffocating fabric off. There’s no way I’m asking for his help while my body buzzes from the tension that crackles between us. I’ve never had a problem showing interest, but having him reciprocate my moves is shocking.

Dipping into the water, I lean against the tub's edge, breathing in the clean scent and relaxing my muscles. Having a big, strong man by my side is soothing, and I feel accepted for flaws he doesn’t even know about. There are no panicking thoughts of “Is the fireplace turned off?” or “If he decides to cook, will he remember to cut off the stove?” when he's around. I can just go blank, and I know I’ll be safe.I'm sure it'd be the same way in bed.

I shudder and feel the warm water brush over my shoulders. He’s old enough to be experienced–even if it's been eight years—and I'm sure he'd be able to find every spot that has me shaking and begging for more.

I let out a ragged exhale, rubbing the bubbles over my chest.I'm just trying to relax; that’s all this is. At least, that’s what I tell myself as my fingers brush over my hardening nipples, and I arch my chest out of the water so the cool air can hit my heated skin.

His voice rumbles through the door, saying something to someone on the phone, and I wonder what it'd be like to hear him in my ear—directing my every move and whispering all the things I yearn to hear. I can almost imagine his hand over mine, guiding it over my abdomen until my fingers are sliding through my lips.

My breathing goes shallow as I circle my swollen clit.

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