Theyâd chosen Letterman.
Seth shook his head, staring at their unmade bed. For the last few years of their marriage, he and Leila had a standing habit of making love on Wednesday nights. Not that it was a stated appointment or anything. But it was the only night he didnât work late at the restaurant, so it had become their habit. A nice, enjoyable romp between two people who knew each otherâs pleasure points as well as their own. Simple and to the point.
But last night, even though the kids were already asleep and Leila had been well-rested from a day off, she hadnât reached for him.
And worse than that ⦠he hadnât reached for her either.
Theyâd chosen to watch David Letterman instead of having sex. Top Ten lists and dancing animals had been more interesting to them than each other.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of his cargo shorts and pulled on his work slacks. Heâd wanted to bring it up with her this afternoon when heâd found her doing the dishes and staring out the window like sheâd rather be anywhere but there. They needed to deal with whatever was going onâor not going on between them. But then Myra, their seven-year-old, had bounced into the kitchen asking him to check her spelling homework, and the moment had been lost.
But now the unspoken words sat heavy on his chest. Through the ups and downs of their eight years of marriage, he and Leila had been through rough times. Being unexpected parents while they were still in college had almost killed their marriage before it got started. But never before had he felt this yawning space between them. Heâd thought it was because heâd been so busy with the restaurant lately. But even when they had time, like last night, theyâd only sat in companionable silence, occasionally chatting about something one of the kids did that day. Comfortable but just ⦠there.
He searched though his drawer looking for his general manager name tag, then remembered heâd taken it off in the bathroom. He headed to the closed bathroom door and eased it open, a cloud of steam hitting him as he entered. He started to call out to Leila to warn her he was in there. But the low moan that came from the other side of the shower curtain halted the words in his throat. He froze.
The distinct sound of soap slicking over skin mixed in with the patter of the shower water. Then a throaty âyesâ whispered through the humid air. His body snapped to attention even though Leila getting herself off right now had implications that were anything but sexy.
Heâd told her he was just running out for a few minutes to drop the kids off at his parentsâ house. She knew he was going to be right back. Available. At least for a few minutes before both of them left for work.
But sheâd chosen her hand instead of her husband.
She groaned again, and he tried to recall the last time heâd heard her sound that into it when she was with him. Who was she imagining on the other side of those touches? Clearly it wasnât him because she couldâve had the real thing had she been willing to wait a few minutes. Maybe he was no longer as interesting as a fantasy.
She cried out softly, and he could picture her head tilted back against the tile wall, fingers buried inside herself, her orgasm pulsing through her as the water streamed over the heavy swells of her breasts. No doubt a beautiful sight. One he could stroke off to just imagining, but one that didnât include him.
His cock pushed against the fly of his pants even as hurt coursed through him. On one hand, he was happy to know Leilaâs sex drive was still there, because there had been times when heâd wondered if their lovemaking was simply an obligation she thought she needed to fulfill. But knowing that sheâd chosen to get herself off instead of reaching for him stung deep.
He wasnât satisfying his wife.
And if he was truly honest with himself, he hadnât been satisfied for a long time either. Sex had turned into another item on their to-do list. He loved her with a depth he couldnât describe, but the fire that used to sizzle between them was now a pile of dim embers.
The water cut off, and he took a vaulting step backward, shutting the door behind him as quickly and as quietly as he could. He hurried over to the side of the bed and busied himself making it. Leila stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later in a swirl of coconut-soap-scented air.
âOh, hey,â she said, her voice holding a hint of stiffness but the glow of her skin betraying the remnants of her orgasm. âI didnât realize youâd made it back already.â