Page 52 of Flyboy
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At the soft click of the door closing, Jack rolled over and stared up at the ceiling.
It was six-thirty in the morning on Thursday. He didn't have to work at Mercy-Life, and nothing needed his attention at Townsend. He had no pressing issues that warranted him being up this early. What hedidhave was a wife who liked to initiate sex in the middle of the night.
There were no tender moments before they fell asleep if they happened to be going to bed at the same time—which they had not done. It was straight up, roll over some time before dawn, shove her hands down his pants and grab his cock.
He'd been fucking his wife for less than a week and he hated it.
Okay, that was a lie. There was nothing wrong with the sex. Or his wife. Both were hot.
If he told anyone he wasn't happy with his sex life, they'd laugh their asses off at him. He kind of wanted to laugh at himself.
Except it wasn't funny.
He thought he'd broken through one of the many walls Lys had erected between them when they'd come together for the first time in months on Monday morning. He'd been wrong.
So, so wrong.
She was still keeping him at arm's length. They barely spoke or even saw each other because she was picking up every shift the hospital offered, at least that's how it seemed to him. He could count on one hand the number of times they'd been face to face in the last few days, and two of those were in this bed before the sun came up.
There was only one conclusion he could come to.
She was using him to get off. Shit. She hadn't even let him get his boxers all the way off before jumping him today.
He'd never felt used before. But that's how he felt this morning. It had taken three days and two sessions of hot, explosive sex and no changes in their relationship outside the bedroom—or the dark hours of the night—for him to work out what she was doing.
Jack couldn't decide if she knew she'd been distracting them both with sex or if she was oblivious. He had to believe it was the latter. Lys didn't have a devious bone in her body, and he'd learned over the years—the last three months in particular—she'd stick her head in the sand when it came to dealing with things that made her uncomfortable. Althoughhehad never been one of those uncomfortable things.
Not that it was him exactly that made her uneasy. It was their relationship. Or the depth of it that had her running for the hills.
Until they'd gotten married and moved in together, she'd used Penny and work to keep him at a distance she felt safe with. He didn't—couldn't—blame her, not when she'd been let down repeatedly by the one person in her life who should have had her back.
He had hoped he would have gotten closer by now. Hell, he thought he was making inroads in those months before her sister arrived in Sunnyville, and since then he'd done everything he could to show Alyssa how he felt, to make her happy, to take care of her and secure Penny's place in her life. He didn't know what more he could do, or how much longer he could butt up against Lys's walls.
Time. He'd known it would take time. And he'd given it to her. Three months of being there without her asking. Three months of standing behind her, beside her. Three months of making everything he could easier
It hadn't been enough.
Yet.
Maybe he needed to show her some of his own vulnerability for her to show him hers.
He still hadn't told her who he was. That the family company he was majority shareholder of was worth billions and his personal wealth ranked just as high.
It was a conversation he didn't want to have but knew he had to. He'd waited long enough. Too long. He probably should have told her before they'd started having sex again. Except he hadn't had the chance. She'd either been at the hospital or Mercy-Life, orhehad been at Mercy-Life. The only time since Monday they seemed to be in the same room for more than five minutes was between the hours of midnight and six. And they spent those either sleeping or fucking each other’s brains out.
Sure, the fucking had only happened twice. They'd missed Tuesday because Lys had been clocking out of her shift at Mercy-Life and Jack had been clocking in, and by the time he'd walked in the door on Wednesday morning, she'd been long gone from their bed. Which meant this morning’s grab and fuck before dawn was only the second time they'd had sex and couldn'treallybe called a pattern.
When he thought about it like that, he couldn't consider Lys jumping him her modus operandi, could he?
Except he knew her. And as passionately as they came together, as in sync as they were when it came to sex, he knew it wasn't the deep connection he yearned for. She might be letting him within arm's length physically but emotionally she'd locked him out, kept him as distant as he'd been before.
His gut told him she planned to keep him out. She'd use their physical chemistry to avoid emotion intimacy for the foreseeable future. Hard for him to talk about their feelings when they were busy blowing their minds and bodies.
How fucked was it that he didn't want to screw his wife whenever she wanted? Instead, he wanted to hold her. Talk to her. Share a meal with her. Justbein the same bed as her and cuddle like a normal married couple.
Yeah, he wanted to laugh at himself. He'd gotten what he wanted for months—Lys in his bed and their off-the-charts sex life back and it didn't make him happy.
