A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series)(40)

"Stripper?" Okay, this time he knew he was bellowing. "What stripper?"  To his utter disappointment, she stopped her seductive stroking of his  skin and frowned up at him. She lifted one of her hands from his arm and  raised a forefinger to her lips in the universal shushing gesture.





  

"What stripper?" he asked again, in what he knew was a whisper, and she rolled her eyes.

"Massive Marvin," she informed him helpfully, but then removed her other  hand from his overheated skin to say the rest in clumsy sign language.  But he's not that massive. You're much bigger than he is . . . She  paused thoughtfully while she ran her eyes over his body and then  switched back to words. "Much bigger, all over!" Right. That last  gesture was not exactly standard sign language but accompanied by the  look she directed downward it was quite unmistakable and very  flattering. He felt his face heating and his body hardening even more.  He watched as her eyebrows sprang almost all the way to her hairline as  she recognized what was happening to him. She raised her glassy eyes to  his once more and licked her lips hungrily. God, he knew that look. She  wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was so drunk that he knew  it would be wrong to act on their mutual need right then.

Sleeping with her while she was wasted was not part of his  reconciliation plan. Okay, he still had no real idea what the hell his  reconciliation plan was, but he was pretty sure that sleeping with her  right now would not be the best first step.

"He's gay," she said. Her lips formed the words clearly enough, and he frowned in confusion at the non sequitur.

"What?" he asked. She was so bloody enchanting like this, but at the same time utterly confounding.

"Massive Marvin. He's gay."

"And that disappointed you?" he asked levelly, trying not to sound  jealous at the thought of his wife ogling some other guy. Of course, he  had no idea if he succeeded or not, but he hoped that he managed to  sound as neutral as he was pretending to be.

"No, it was more of a scientific experiment." Her eyes were on his lower  lip, and he wondered what the hell she found so fascinating about it.

"Going to a strip club was a scientific experiment?" He knew that he  sounded like a complete idiot, but he wasn't sure he was following this  weird conversation correctly. He kept feeling like he was missing  something.

"You have such a gorgeous mouth." She totally threw him with that one. "Much better than Massive Marvin's."

"Are you going to compare me to this Massive Marvin guy all night?" he  asked resentfully, feeling ridiculous even saying the stupid name.

"No . . . not fair, he'd lose." She went up on her toes and completely  slammed him by kissing him. Her arms crept around his neck, and her body  was flush against his. He could feel every single curve of her body  through their clothes. His arms went around her waist and his hands  cupped her firm butt and lifted her until he could feel her feminine  heat against his aching hardness. God, it felt amazing having her in his  arms again. It would be so easy to strip her naked, push her up against  the wall, and . . .

Whoa there, buddy! He lifted his head and his hands, raising them up  with his palms out in a gesture of surrender, and wondered, with the  slightest hint of hysteria, why he was always the one calling a halt to  things. One day he was going to give her what she so desperately wanted  and to hell with the consequences. But, he conceded wryly as he looked  down into her frustrated face, that day was not today. She was weaving  on the spot and if not for the fact that she still had her arms tightly  wrapped around his neck, she would probably have fallen.

"Babe, you can't keep torturing me like this," he could feel the  hoarseness in his throat and wondered if he'd managed to get the words  out loudly enough for her to hear. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Her  expression brightened at the word "bed," and Bryce rolled his eyes,  dragging her arms away from his neck and assisting her up to her room.  After another frustrating battle in her bedroom, where she seemed to  have grown at least six extra arms and put them to good use, he  thankfully managed to get her into bed.

He stared grimly down at his passed-out wife, his body hard, aching, and  heavy with suppressed lust. He couldn't live like this anymore; it was  enough to test a saint, and he was no bloody saint. He shook his head in  disgust before heading for his usual cold shower.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Bronwyn joined them in the sunny kitchen for breakfast the  following morning, she was wearing a gigantic pair of sunglasses and  moving gingerly, with the caution of someone nursing a hell of a  headache. She was dressed in a faded shirt and an ugly pair of sweat  pants that had seen better days. Her hair was a complete mess. She tried  to swallow down her nausea when Bryce gestured toward a pile of  pancakes with a raised eyebrow.





  

"Coffee," she grunted as she sat down carefully in the chair immediately  to Bryce's right. His lips twitched as he poured some of the hot, dark  brew into a mug and placed it on the table in front of her. Kayla was  staring at her mother curiously.

"Mummy sick?" she asked worriedly, and Bronwyn shook her head before  wincing as the movement set off the annoying little drummer gremlins  that seemed to have taken up residence in her brain.

"I'm okay, sweetie." Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat  self-consciously before smiling reassuringly at her little girl.  Satisfied with her answer, Kayla went back to playing with her food and  singing her off-key little ditty.

Bronwyn flinched at the noise before daring to glance up at Bryce, who  was still watching her quietly. She remembered embarrassing bits and  pieces of what had happened after she had returned home the night before  and didn't quite know what to say to him this morning.

"You know, Bron," he said, breaking the awkward silence between them,  and she looked up a little too quickly at the sound of his voice. She  bit back a groan and looked at him fully, bracing herself for his  censure.

"Yes?" she prompted when he remained silent a little too long.

"I'm all for it if you want to use me for . . ." He glanced over at  Kayla before lowering his voice. "S-e-x, as long as we come to some sort  mutual of agreement over it. No more of this  coming-on-to-me-in-a-moment-of-weakness crap. At least that way we both  know exactly where we stand, and I won't feel like an utter bastard when  I act on these mixed signals that you're sending."

"I'm so . . ."

He made a rude sound, cutting off her apology.

"Don't. Just don't apologize. I don't think I can handle it right now."

"Bryce, I think that I should move out. Not far from here, close enough  for you to have access to Kayla. You'll still have her when I'm at  school of course, and she could have a sleepover here at least once a  week. I've been thinking about it . . ."

"Clearly."

". . . and it's a workable solution," she continued, ignoring his  sarcastic little interruption. "One that would suit our lifestyles."

"And how can you afford a place of your own on the salary you're  earning?" He looked shell-shocked by her words, but Bronwyn refused to  allow her resolve to weaken. Theresa's vehement words the night before  had made her think that maybe she did deserve something more than this  warped arrangement that he had suggested.

"Well, you'll have to pay for it," she told him resolutely, and his eyes  narrowed. "You will pay for my new place, my studies, and child  support. I think that it's the least you can do. I don't want hundreds  of thousands or half of your company or any other kind of payday, but it  would be stupid of me not to ask for your support until after I've  finished my studies."

"I don't want you to move out," he said grimly.

"I know, but if I don't move out, we'll keep repeating the same cycle. I  don't want to want you, Bryce. But I do, and if I stay here we will  wind up in bed together again and that'll be a huge step backward for  us. For me."

"Bronwyn, what will it take to convince you that I don't want to lose you, or Kayla? That I honestly want to save our marriage?"

"Bryce, there's nothing left to save," she said with a bitter smile.  "Yes, I'm physically attracted to you, but we can't base a marriage on  that alone."

"That's all you feel for me? Physical attraction?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes," she lied, happy that the sunglasses hid her eyes from him.

"What about Kayla?" he asked.

"Kayla will be fine; we'll all be fine, Bryce."

"Bronwyn." His voice dropped to an urgent whisper, rife with despair.  "Please, don't do this. Give us a chance. I know that I've done horrible  things and behaved reprehensibly, but . . ." She held up her hands,  hating to see him beg and knowing that if she allowed it to continue,  she would cave.