The Wife – Part Three: In Sickness and In Health. ML Roberts

empty. And without looking at me he pulls me inside, kicks the door shut behind him, slamming me back against the tiled wall before I have a chance to take another breath. And it hurts. The pain is real, but it’s what I need, I need to feel something. Because for months I’ve felt numb, a continuous dull ache. But right now, I feel everything.

      My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, banging against my ribs as I look at him – right into his steel-grey eyes. I want him. I want this. And he knows that.

      The corner of his mouth edges up into a smirk and I gasp quietly as he slides both hands up under my dress, his fingers trailing so lightly over my skin they’re barely touching it. I can’t breathe, but I like the feeling, and as he grabs hold of my underwear, ripping it off in one rough yank, the sound of the flimsy material tearing echoes around the empty bathroom. I feel dizzy, excited, sick with nerves. This is wrong, I know it’s wrong. My husband is downstairs, right now; he’s just a flight of stairs away but it’s because of him I’m doing this. He won’t touch me. Won’t talk to me. It’s his fault, he drove me here. Doesn’t he understand? I need this.

      Liam presses a hand against the side of my neck, gently pushing my head back, just a touch. I groan quietly as his lips graze the base of my throat; as his fingers stroke my skin, dig into my thigh. My skin feels like it’s on fire, I’m burning up. I want all of this and so much more, I don’t want him to stop.

      He cups my bottom, lifts me up and I wrap my legs around him. I want to see him as he pushes inside me but, as his mouth touches mine, my eyes start to close. He’s kissing me, gently at first. A once-familiar kiss. Back then it was okay, for him to do this, to kiss me. To fuck me. Now it’s dangerous. Now it’s wrong, but he’s making me feel again, with every fibre of my being. I need Liam to be the one I take my frustration out on, to be the person I use to vent my pain and anger, I need him. And I want him. God help me …

      His fingers intertwine with mine up against the wall as the kiss becomes harder, deeper, more urgent. It’s overwhelming, the intensity. It’s wrapping itself around us, engulfing us, and I open my eyes again. I want to look at him, as he fucks me.

      I grip his hands tighter. I can feel him inside me, his eyes burning into mine as his thrusts become harder. They’re verging on violent, but I crave this beautiful pain that is telling me I’m alive. Telling me I don’t always have to live in that new, sad, dark world, not all the time. I can escape, when I need to. So, when he suddenly stops, when he pulls out of me, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness washes over me. It’s unexpectedly brutal, and for a second I forget to breathe.

      But before I can get that breath out he’s swung me around so I’m facing the wall. He grabs hold of me, pulls me back against him and I cry out as he slams back into me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pushes deep, angles my body in a way that enables me to feel every inch of him. But I need to look at him, I want to see him in a way that I can no longer see my husband. I need to see him do this. I need to realize what’s happening, and I buck back against him, pushing him out of me so I can turn around. He gets it now, he knows. We’re not done yet.

      His mouth twists up into a slight smile, and I close my eyes as he kisses me again; a slow, deep kiss that grows in intensity as he lifts me up into his arms. He’s back inside me in a heartbeat, my fingers winding in his hair, his breath hot against my neck, and the one thing I’m not feeling is guilty. I’m filled with so much anger and fear, there’s no room for guilt. Here, in this room, with this man, I’m the woman I want to be again. And that’s all I care about.

      I drop my head, and bury my face in his shoulder. I grip his hands so tight I must be hurting him, and I can already feel that inevitable climax coming, spreading through my body like a beautiful wildfire. My skin’s still burning, and I want to scream so loud, let all that frustration out, but I can’t, not here – so I bite down on my lip as my body jolts and shakes in his arms. I can barely breathe, my heart’s beating so fast and so loud it’s all I can hear. I don’t even know if he’s come too, all I’m aware of is what’s happening inside of me, when he’s inside of me. Dr Liam Kennedy was my drug of choice once before. He’s become that again.

      Unwrapping my legs from his hips, I let my feet hit the floor before I push him away. It’s just a gentle nudge, but I want to look at him now we’re done. I want to see his face, to know he understands what this is. And then I reach out and clutch him by his shirt to pull him back towards me, his hands slamming up against the wall by my head as our mouths crash together in a deep, almost animalistic kiss. I scrunch his shirt up tighter in my fist, and I bite his lip. I want to drown in whatever this is. I’ve tasted escape now. I want more.

      ‘Are we really doing this?’ I whisper.

      He doesn’t answer my question. He just kisses me again, a kiss so hard it pushes my head right back. And then he pulls away, throws me another slight smile, and he walks out of the room. I hear him head back down to the party. Back to my husband, his best friend. A man we’ve both been lying to, for a very long time …

       Chapter 1

       Present Day …

      So many lies. I can’t seem to escape them. Can’t seem to stop living them. There is so much I can’t let go of.

      Liam.

      I can’t let go of him. I need him. We’ve been sleeping together for ten months now, mine and Michael’s anniversary party was just the start of it. For ten months he’s been giving me everything my husband can’t or won’t give me. Liam keeps me from falling over the precipice I threaten to tumble over so frequently these days.

      I’m spying on my husband because I think he’s sleeping with another woman, and yet, I’m sleeping with his best friend. I’m almost certain my husband is having an affair, yet I’m having one of my own. But he drove me to it. He practically pushed me into Liam’s bed with his lack of concern, his unwillingness to be the support I needed at a time when my world was falling apart. It still is falling apart. He’s no different to my father, with his lies. His deceit. But I’m not my mother. I won’t lie down and take his shit, I’m fighting. Liam’s nothing more than the support I need as I try to put my life back together. That’s all I can allow him to be. My support.

      The first time I met Liam Kennedy, a year or so before I met Michael, I wasn’t in a good place. My father had tainted the way I saw men, making me wary of contemplating anything other than friendship. That was probably why I was drawn to Liam. He wasn’t looking for anything serious either, he just wanted someone to hang out with. Someone to sleep with, without the complications of a full-on relationship. That suited me just fine. Sex without the mess, without the threat of any heartache.

      We’d met at the local pub, at a party to celebrate the pub football team’s win in some tournament or other, I don’t remember what, exactly. I don’t even remember how I’d ended up at that party, but I remember the first time I saw Liam. He’d been standing by the side of the bar, close to the doors that led from the pub to the beer garden out back. He’d had a pint in one hand, the other gesticulating wildly around his head as he regaled some story to his group of friends. And it must’ve been a funny story because I also remember the laughter, so loud it had almost drowned out the music.

      I remember the night I met Liam. My first night with Liam.

      The night it all started.

      The night that meant he was now linked to us, our lives; everything that would happen, he was going to be a part of it, because of that night.

      I quickly pull myself back from that memory; back to the here and now. It’s the present I need to concentrate on, not the past.

      ‘I should be going.’ I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest as he comes out of the bathroom. ‘Michael’s probably home by now.’

      But he won’t wonder where I’ve been. He won’t ask what I’ve