Life had sent more than one person’s fair share of suffering my way, and the way I saw it, there was no universal limit. We got what we got. To David’s credit he’d never doused me with platitudes. God won’t give you more than you can handle. It’ll make you stronger. All the bullshit that rolled off me like water off a duck.

David kissed me on the forehead, tenderly. He was like that. Gentle, loving. That was how our lovemaking always started. He’d coax me. Woo me. And only when he had me did his kisses and touches grow more urgent. He was passionate to the point of rough, but he never crossed the line.

“You’re right,” I said, smiling. “No more trouble tonight.”

“But you’re already worrying about tomorrow’s problems.” He nibbled my earlobe with his teeth.

“Marisa and I have a ten a.m. meeting tomorrow. I’m going over her books with her.”

As if I hadn’t spoken, he pushed the robe’s silk off my shoulder until the pale skin was exposed. He kissed me first at the base of my neck and then above my breast. Then he suckled my nipple before nibbling with his teeth. Up to the line of too much, before he backed off.

I liked the restrained violence. He could hurt me if he wanted to, but he didn’t out of respect. The fear and the worry that always focused my mind faded as my desire grew.

He ran his hand down my belly and to the nest of curls between my legs. When I gasped, looked up at him, he smiled. “Making sure you’re paying attention.”

“Full and undivided.” Times like this, I didn’t recognize my own voice.

Fingers slipped between the folds, and I arched as he pressed the nub. Energy shot to my loins, and he reached for the tie binding the robe. Silk slid off my body like a waterfall, pooling around my feet.

“How is it you always know the right thing to say and do?” I asked.

Even white teeth flashed. “Practice.”

22 MARISA

22

MARISA

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

7:00 a.m.

When I woke, a dull throb pounded behind my ears. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare toes brushing the cool wooden floor. I needed a rug, but all my promises to find one online were always forgotten when my day got started and the computer work sucked me in.

My oversize T-shirt brushed the tops of my knees as I padded into the bathroom, stared at my pale reflection and the bird’s nest of hair that greeted me each morning. Oddly, longer hair required less attention. A quick brush and a ponytail had always been enough to make me presentable. But short hair, not so easily tamed, required shampoo and mousse.