““I didn’t leave him for you,” she said quietly. He nodded. His hands were folded in front of him, his fingers tight together. “I know.” She took a washcloth from the cabinet, wet it, and started to wipe off the smears that had hit his neck, the backs of his arms, the places he couldn’t see. “I left for me. So I could find my own self.” “I understand.” “I want you in my life. But that’s not the same. You understand?” “I do.” She let the silence speak for her f...or a bit as she ran the cloth over his body, cleaning away the dark splashes and smears of the darker life he led. He’d shucked off his jeans on the way upstairs, and he stood before her in his boxers, his cock eager and hard, but his hands were carefully neutral, letting her do what she needed to do before he moved. She liked that. Appreciated it.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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