Sin and Redemption

“We can’t go on like this,” I told Sara the morning after her pregnancy test when I entered the kitchen. I knew she would simply continue living a separate life until her next fertile window rolled around and then have me mount her like a breeding bull, but I was done with this shit. I’d never had a problem with detached sex. I’d never sought an emotional bond with a woman. Sex had been enough. But sex had been fucking great back then. Sara wasn’t a fling, she was my wife, and I wanted more than the miserable marriage we currently led, more than the awkward and painful sex. And I knew I would have to be the one to take the reins to make that happen. For Sara, sex had no good connotation. It was my job to change that, even if I was also the reason it was bad in the first place.

Sara looked up from her spot at the kitchen table, where she clung to her coffee mug. “What do you mean?”

I motioned my pointer finger between us. “I mean this. We’re married. I know we had a horrible start, but I don’t want things to keep being horrible. I want a real marriage. I want you to feel like my wife, not a stranger.”

I could see the questions in her eyes.

I sat across from her. “And I’m not talking about sex, okay? I’m talking about us never spending time together.”

For Sara to ever be comfortable having sex with me, she needed to be comfortable in my presence. We needed to become more than strangers.

“We could watch a movie together when you come home tonight from work,” Sara suggested softly. I was glad she was open to the idea.

“What kind of movies do you like to watch?” I asked. I dreaded a romantic movie marathon. I doubted we were ready to see happy couples on screen.

“I love historical movies.”

I chuckled because I should have seen it coming. She was majoring in art history, and most of the books in her room were historic tomes. “Okay,” I said slowly.

“What do you like?”

“Action movies, science fiction, fantasy.”

She looked thoughtful, then she shrugged. “Many historical movies have lots of action, and many series have a historical setting that is fantasy. Maybe we could start with Saving Private Ryan? I watched it a long time ago and loved it. I’d love to see it again.”

“Why not? I’ve never watched it.”

I came home with a bucket of chicken wings, and Sara had prepared mac ’n’ cheese to go with it. We settled on the sofa in front of the TV. Even though we were almost an arm’s length away, I counted it as a win. Still, I wanted nothing more than to reach over and pull Sara against me. She looked particularly beautiful tonight in a short, very soft white sweater and a purple corduroy skirt. She pulled her tight-clad legs under herself and gave me a small smile.

I was glad we’d opted for a movie and not a dinner that would burden us with conversation. I wanted our first dates to go smoothly and not end in utter awkwardness.

I switched on the movie.

Halfway through it, I raised my eyebrows at Sara. “This wasn’t what I expected from you.”

She tilted her head. “Because of its brutality?”

I nodded. I didn’t have trouble with ripped-off limbs, but I would have thought that Sara was too squeamish for it.

“History has many gruesome moments. You can’t study any kind of history without paying attention to the most barbaric moments in time. Do you hate it?”

“No, it’s actually quite entertaining.”

“For a historic movie,” Sara said with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged with a chuckle. “No, it’s really good. But I won’t turn into a history buff, sorry. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“I know.”

I frowned, wondering if our differences bothered Sara. “Was Paolo interested in history?”

I wasn’t sure why I even brought him up. He’d never been a topic in our marriage. From what I heard, he had already married a young woman from Baltimore.

Sara angled her body to me and put her arm up on the backrest. “Paolo?” She shook her head with a look of honest confusion. “I don’t know. I never spent time with him. And I don’t expect you to like the same things I do. Or do you expect me to enjoy guns and knives, and…”

She trailed off, probably referring to violence or something of the sort. Maybe this was the best proof of how little we knew about each other. “That’s part of my job. It’s not all there is to me.”

She flushed. “So you don’t like it?”

“No, most of the time I do. But it’s not what’s really important to me.”

“Then what is?”

“My family, our dogs, the woods. I love the outdoors and the sense of freedom it gives me. Nature’s rules are simple; humans are complicated.”

Sara let out a small laugh. “That’s true.”

“You used to love pottery, but you haven’t done it since we got married.”

Embarrassment filled her face. “I haven’t used your gifts yet either. I know.”

“I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty. I just want to know why.”

She looked down at her fingers, which were playing with a loose thread on her white wool tights. “I loved the moments of pensiveness I had when I did pottery. I don’t enjoy being in my head as much anymore.”

I grimaced, realizing why. “You could do pottery in a more distracting setting. That way, you wouldn’t have to be in your head.”

“But where could I do pottery here?” she asked, motioning around us.

“I could make some room in my fitness room.”

She bit her lip with a sheepish smile. “Have you ever seen how big a potter’s wheel is? And I’d need an oven to fire my pottery.”

“To be honest, before you, I thought pottery was something nuns or grandmas did.”

Sara’s eyes lit up with indignation. “That’s so not true. The pottery art scene is so lively and creative. It’s not boring or old-fashioned as you make it sound.”

“You’ll have to show me. I’ll get a potter’s wheel into the room, and you’ll use it.”

“Okay. I sold the wheel I used before, so we’ll have to order a new one, which will take a few weeks. I never had a kiln. You need a good place for it because of the heat.”

“We could set up an oven in my parents’ barn.”

“If we can remove any fire hazards, that would be a great idea.”

Seeing her honest smile and the way it lit up her eyes, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

When I came home the next day, the kitchen smelled of homemade chili, but Sara wasn’t there. Taking my gun out, I went in search of her and found her in our rooftop garden, cuddled up in several blankets on the swing seat in front of the gas hearth.

“May I?” I asked.

She jumped, then let out a small laugh as she peered up at me. “You startled me.”

“I’m late. I’m sorry. Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, I waited for you.”

“I’ll grab two bowls for us,” I said.

Steam rose from the hot chili as I stepped back out into the cold and headed over to Sara. She took a bowl from me and put it down on her lap. I sank down beside her and did the same.

It was a wonderful chili, cooked as close to perfection as possible. “Have you ever cooked chili over the open flame? The smokiness is incredible.”

Sara shook her head. “It sounds delicious.” She nodded toward the gas flame in the hearth. “I suppose it won’t work with gas.”

“No,” I said immediately. I didn’t like the gas flame. Sure, it was less work and less cleaning, but nothing beat a real fire. “I wish we could make a fire here, then I’d show you.”

“Can you cook?” she asked surprised.

I chuckled. “No, not at all. I’d make the fire, and you could make the chili. Or we’d have to visit my parents and have chili there. Mom makes a fantastic chili over the open flame.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Sara positively glowed. She was incredibly gorgeous. She bit her lip as if she could see what I was thinking. I wanted to kiss her so badly that it was physically painful not to.

“Maximus…” Sara began, then fell silent. She set her bowl down, then scooted a bit closer. I put my bowl on the ground. Sara squinted into the flames in utmost concentration. She turned around, looking like someone about to take their first bungee jump.

She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to my lips, then retreated quickly. I was stunned.

“What was that?” I murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then regarded me with an expression as if she wasn’t sure either. “I just wanted to test something.”

“Test something?” I repeated. If my lips hadn’t still been tingling, I would have convinced myself the kiss hadn’t happened.

“I’m s—” I raised my eyebrows, and Sara stopped, smiling in embarrassment.

“Never for that,” I rumbled.

She nodded, then yawned.

I rose to my feet and held out my hand. “You’re tired. I kept you up too late.”

She took my hand and let me pull her to her feet.

“You can test something whenever you want, you know?”

She nodded again, but I could tell she was stunned by her own courage.

Maybe I would have to be the one to act, but given our past, that wasn’t as easy as I wanted.

We walked back inside, and Sara headed toward her bedroom. Before she closed the door, she said, “Good night, Maximus.”

“Good night.” She closed the door, and I headed to my bedroom. Fuck. Tonight, I really wished we weren’t sleeping in separate rooms.

My phone lit up with an email that the potter’s wheel I’d ordered would arrive tomorrow. Finally. Who would have thought it was such a hot commodity?

“My ovulation is in three or four days,” Sara said when I sat down at the breakfast table across from her with a cup of coffee. I would have never thought a sentence could cause me so much dread.

So this was why she had been so nervous last night. We’d spent almost every evening having dinner together in front of the TV in the past week. It was a tentative start, even if the distance between us still seemed impossible to overcome. Sara’s moment of bravery hadn’t changed much between us. We hadn’t kissed again. I knew I needed to stop waiting for Sara to act.

She cleared her throat but didn’t look up from her fruit bowl. It was loaded with almond butter and chia seeds. She had been eating more since her doctor had recommended it, and it was slowly becoming apparent. Her curves had become more prominent again, even if I rarely allowed myself to admire them. “We should try every night for the next few days.”

Three or four times of painful sex—for Sara on a physical level and me on a mental one. Fuck. I wasn’t a pussy, but the thought of having her lying under me in the dark again, stiff as a board, while I tried to get off as soon as possible was a nightmare. One I had absolutely no intention of reliving. We’d made progress in the past two weeks, but that would ruin it all.

“Under one condition,” I said.

She looked up, frowning. So far I’d always done what she asked me to do. My guilty conscience wouldn’t allow me to act any other way, but I simply couldn’t do this again. It felt like I was forcing myself on her every time, even though she asked for it.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“Tonight, we’re spending a chilled evening in our rooftop garden, chatting and just trying to be a normal couple and kiss. And tomorrow, we’re having sex, but we’re not using lubricant. I’m not going to stick my cock in without preparation. We’re going to do this the right way, like it should be done.”

Concern filled her eyes, but she nodded. “But we might still need lubricant.”

Maybe we would. Fuck. I had always been confident in my ability to get a woman wet, but the situation with Sara was different, and it had changed me. But I’d do my best to get Sara relaxed and wet, even if I was the last person she wanted to be with.

“What would you like me to cook tonight?” Sara asked after a moment, sounding more composed than a minute ago.

Screw it. We would be spending the next few days trying to make a baby. I couldn’t walk on eggshells anymore. “I’d prefer to eat you, but as that’s not on the menu tonight, I’d love a hearty soup.”

Sara gave me an open-mouthed look, then snapped her lips shut. “All right.”

Fuck, I would have laughed at her stunned expression if I wasn’t nervous like a virgin about the next few days.

Sara was outside, cuddled up under even more blankets in front of the gas hearth. In my hands I held bowls with the bean and pasta stew Sara had prepared. We ate in silence, allowing the soup to warm us from the inside. When we were done, I put our bowls on the ground since Sara seemed ready to cling to hers all evening.

“We’ve done this before, sitting beside each other like this, and you even kissed me,” I reminded her.

“I know. But that was just a peck, and it’s just kind of strange knowing what’s going to happen all day. It’s increasing my anxiety.”

I raised my eyebrows. She planned our sex life according to her ovulation.

Sara grimaced and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Hypocritical of me, right?”

“You’re my wife, and I won’t ever badmouth you, but since you were the one who called you hypocritical…”

“I deserve that, I know.”

“You deserve so much more than what we have right now, Sara.”

She looked at me with huge, emotional eyes. I was done with words. I touched her cheek and leaned forward. “Just a kiss, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed.

Sara

Maximus’s face came closer, and his other hand came up to touch my cheek, but before his lips touched mine, he paused, giving me time to pull back or stop him. I didn’t. Maximus regarded me, his eyes seemingly taking in every inch of my face, and bridged the last inch between us until his lips brushed mine. The friction sent sparks through my entire body. My cheeks became warm, and soon, my entire body felt hot. Maximus kept the kiss light, sliding his lips over mine once more before he pulled back, but only a couple of inches. I wished he wouldn’t stop. I wished he would keep kissing me. “Was that okay for you?”

“Yes,” I got out.

A kiss was nothing compared to what we had already done and would be doing in the next few days, but it felt intimate on a level that Maximus and I hadn’t reached before. And I had enjoyed it. The trauma from the past was surprisingly quiet, maybe because we’d never kissed during the incident.

Maximus slowly lowered his hands from my cheek, and I mourned the loss of his warmth and closeness. He wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned against him, peering up at his face. He met my gaze and gave me a small smile before he returned his attention to the flames. His eyes glowed as the fire reflected in them. I allowed myself to see Maximus at that moment, see him as he was and not as part of a memory that he and I needed to overcome to move into a future together. And as my eyes took him in, like they had taken him in when he’d picked me up that day, I realized I was still attracted to him. He looked nothing like the guys I’d admired in the past, but my body still warmed when I saw his strong body and stunning eyes. If I could focus on that, on the man before me in the next few days and hopefully beyond that too, then maybe we could build a connection that wasn’t constantly tainted by the past.

“I think I’m attracted to you,” I said. In the past, I would have never uttered something rash like this. Maybe it was Isa’s influence on me.

Maximus’s eyebrows climbed his forehead as he gave me an amused look. “You think?”

I laughed. “It’s complicated.”

“I know,” he murmured. “You know what’s not complicated?”

His gaze burned into me in a way it had never done before. “No,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing complicated about how I feel about you, Sara. I’m definitely one hundred percent, no doubt about it attracted to you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I let out an embarrassed laugh but felt secretly pleased by his admittance. It had never crossed my mind that Maximus found me attractive.

Living in the moment seemed to work for us. I wanted to preserve the easiness of tonight.