Page 56 of Henhouse
“Yes,” Effie said, and she found she wanted him closer again, but she resisted the urge to tackle him, something about the softness in his gaze encouraging her to slow down, savor, be present.
“Tell me when to stop,” he whispered, his voice a deep vibrato that rumbled through Effie’s core. He kissed her again, this time treasuring each supple touch of their lips as his hand ventured higher and higher until his palm claimed her breast. Effie sucked in a breath.
It had been so long since she’d let someone explore her body like this, and it hadn’t felt the same. It was only ever hapless teenage groping. Butthis.Thiswas new territory.
Theo’s hands roamed over her body like he’d mapped every inch and knew which peaks and valleys would have her arching into him. When he trailed his fingertips down her back before cupping her backside and drawing her in with a sharp tug, Effie lost all control. She pinned him to his back, straddling him. The warmth of his skin, as shetrailed kisses from his navel to his chin, was a seduction all its own.
Effie wasn’t sure how long they explored each other before she had her own map of his little pleasures, but she delighted in their efficacy. The way he tensed with anticipation when she nibbled his earlobe. Or the subtle shake of his arms as she trailed a finger along the band of his shorts. Her favorite might have been the way he rippled as she dragged her nails down his back while pressing her hips against his.
Though she had thought seriously about crossing her line a time or two, she never actually had to tell Theo to stop. He seemed well aware of what was and wasn’t on the table and happily slowed their passionate exchange until Effie rested on his shoulder fighting the drowsiness that pulled her eyes closed. If she had doubts before the start of their first overnight, they were washed away with the sound of Theo’s slumbering breath. Nothing had ever felt so right. Effie smiled to herself as she nuzzled closer against the planes of his chest before she let sleep claim her too.
28
Who was that?” Brayden asked as Hope circled back to the bench by the cemetery where they’d been speaking. It was late, but the weight of darkness around them steadied Hope’s breath. Hard conversations felt less damning beneath the moon.
“Effie,” Hope replied, taking her seat beside Brayden. She had been happy for the interruption; so far it didn’t seem like this conversation would go the way she wanted it to. “Sorry. I didn’t recognize it and there are a few people at my publisher’s office that have New Hampshire numbers.”
“No worries. Are you nervous?”
“For the launch? No, not about that.”
Brayden’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t reach for her hand, invisible shackles keeping him from doing what he’d normally do. Hope’s heart ached at the realization. “What are you nervous about then?”
“You . . . us. The baby. I don’t want to do this without you,” Hope admitted, and she hated how much sorrow seeped into the words. Shedidn’t want him coming back out of pity, but from the moment they’d arrived at their spot, she’d felt his guard up. It took every ounce of compassion and understanding not to throw herself at him or yell or beg. She wouldn’t be reduced to such antics, not if they’d be in vain.
“You’re not doing it without me, Hope,” he clipped.
“But I’m not doing itwithyou, am I?” She couldn’t help it, and she choked on the tears that snuck free. Hope silently cursed the streetlights that illuminated her broken heart. She wiped at her eyes, doing her best not to break any further. Brayden’s silence was answer enough. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Name it and I’ll do it. Iloveyou. So much it scares me. Please, this can’t . . . this can’t be all we are to each other.”
She gestured to her stomach. She had once thought that intimacy peaked when you brought life into the world with someone—that it formed an unbreakable bond. But she was learning that it existed all on its own. The love, the partnership, the passion all had to live and breathe separately. While a baby might be a happy circumstance of those things if they were already thriving, it wasn’t a guarantee that they’d continue to exist at all. Everything felt far too familiar, far too like the sad loss of love her mother and aunt and cousins had experienced before her. Hope squeezed her eyes shut, willing her tears to dry.
“This isn’t easy for me either,” Brayden whispered, and Hope desperately wanted to believe him, but the strong facade had her feeling otherwise. He seemed resolved, strict. A cinderblock wall where he’d always been a sheer curtain dancing in the breeze.
“This isn’t you,” Hope whispered, yearning for the truth of her words to break through whatever spell Brayden had succumbed to.
“Yeah, well being me keeps bringing me heartache.” He scratched at the nape of his neck, his history dragging his shoulders down with its burden.
“I’m not Chloe,” Hope blurted before she could think better of it. She wanted nothing from Brayden but his heart. She didn’t think she had truly done anything to join Chloe’s ranks.
“No, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t trust you.”
“Brayden . . .”
“No. I need you to hear this. I can’t trust that you won’t take an argument between us or a misunderstanding and use it as a reason to doubt my love for you. A reason to take my kid from me. I can’t have a Chloe situation be the reason that you turn on a dime and walk out of my life. Keep me from my baby. Not again.”
“Where is this coming from? You just admitted you still love me—”
“That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it? What other Chloe situation would possibly come up?“
“I don’t know. But I can’t risk it, not when being a good dad is so important to me. And I can’t do that if I’m always afraid of what might send you running.”
“Don’t you think I’ve learned my lesson?” Hope pleaded. Her grasp on her desperation was slackening. She wasn’t sure she was above groveling at this point. Everything out of Brayden’s mouth sounded rehearsed, stilted.
It wasn’t him.
This wasn’t them.
