Illicit

Nick

Nick's point of view

I was in my study keeping myself busy with work. If I stopped for a second I'd have to think about my wife and the fact that she can't stop lying to me about her affair with Patrick Reynard.

It was the only thing I could think about anymore because it was staring me in the face every time I saw her.

I was stupid enough to encourage Carmella to spend a night with Reynard. I guess this is what I deserve but at the time I felt like I had no choice. I knew that if I didn't at least give Carmella a choice she'd resent me like she did her family.

Carmella was a free spirit. She needed the freedom to make her own decisions. No matter how much I may have wanted to, I couldn't restrain her.

I heard someone tiptoeing through the apartment and I knew it was Carmella.

I heard water pouring from the shower head in our bathroom.

At least she had the decency to shower afterwards. I laughed at my cruel joke but only to keep myself from crying.

Jesus.

Nothing could prepare a man for the emotions that came with knowing that his wife was sleeping with another man. It made me sick to my stomach knowing that Reynard of all people was pleasing my wife. And she was enjoying him so much she felt like fucking him was worth our marriage.
Our life.
Our future.

I should've gave her baby years ago maybe then she'd feel obligated to make it work with me. I would've done anything to assure myself that at the end of this she was coming back to me.

When I eventually looked up, Carmella was leaning against the doorframe of my study. The way she always does when she gets lonely and wanted my attention or when she wanted to pick a fight with me. Even knowing about the affair I found it hard to hate her. Yes, I hated her actions but when she was with me the hate I wanted to have for her waned.

I definitely couldn't hate her when I was in competition with Reynard because I didn't want to risk losing her. I couldn't lose her.

She was my life.

My air.

Carmella looked incredible standing just a few feet away. She wasn't wearing any makeup but that's how I preferred her. She didn't need makeup. Her skin was completely free of fault or blemish but she liked dressing up so much she wore it regardless. Carmella's damp hair clung to her cheeks, the thick waves of brown hair framed her face. Her caramel skin was glowing complimenting the brown of her wide eyes. She had a perfect nose, Irresistibly plump lips, and a infectious smile. I'll admit I missed the curvier figure she had in college. She was thinner now but her body still curved like an hourglass. She was wearing a white, satin nightgown. I could clearly see her round breasts through the thin material. Carmella's arms were crossed hiding the point of her breasts but I could see the curve, her toned belly, and the mound of flesh at the middle of her. It dawned on me that she probably let him touch her there less than an hour ago.

The thought of her and him made my blood to boil over. I wasn't aware that I was biting my lip until I tasted the metallic on my tongue.

I swear to god, I'm going to fucking murder Reynard the first chance I got that conniving fuck probably planned this shit because he was so fucking miserable with his own life. I could imagine how good it was going to feel when my fist made contact with his jaw. His nose. His mouth. I'm going to beat his fucking ass and I'm not going stop until he's begging for mercy.

My veins throbbed as I clenched my fingers together furiously. I stare down at the papers in front of me trying to hide how enrage he made me.

"What do you need Carmella?" I asked her as I flipped through my work.

"Nothing," she muttered softly.

She was looking at me like a kid who'd just scolded by their parent.

I knew she felt guilty just by the sadness she attempted to hide with a small smile. I prayed to god repetitively that she would tell me the truth so we could move on from Reynard.

The longer she waited to tell me the harder it will be for me to forgive her. I truly wanted to forgive her and put this behind us but I couldn't forgive her when she hadn't asked for my forgiveness.

She slowly moved toward me eliminating the distance between us with slow, steady strides. She slid her bottom on my desk situating herself directly in front of me.

"How was your night?" I asked her.

She couldn't even meet my eyes when she spoke. Her voice grew higher with every syllable she spoke. "It was good."

Carmella didn't realize that her voice rose an octave when she was lying. It wasn't obvious to someone who just met her but I could identify her tell.

"You obviously had a blast since you're just now coming home at three in the morning." She opened her mouth to speak but I spoke first. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't stay out late."

"I'm sorry," she whispered guiltily. "I lost track of time."

"Humph,"

I shouldn't be surprised that she lied to me again but I was. I'll just have to find out from Jaxon what exactly kept her out so late.

"Do you still love me?" I asked her leaning back in my chair so that I could see into her eyes.

Her expression grew somber. "Of course, I still love you. Why would you asked me that Nick?"

". . . Because of the changes in your behavior. Something's going on here. We can pretend to be oblivious but that won't help either of us in the long run."

"What are you talking about Nick? What changes?"

I inhaled a sharp breath trying to decide where to start. "You freeze every time you get a text message or phone call. You take longer in the shower. You smell different. You lie more often. You dress sexier. You have some urgent errand to run everyday that spans two to four hours midday. Should I continue . . . ?" I felt the bile rise in my throat as I spoke crudely to her.

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Is there something anything you want to tell me?" I asked gruffly.

"You seem to know everything already."

"Is there something you want to confess to me like why you leave the apartment to answer a phone call? Why a large sum of money is missing from our account?" She questioned.

"That doesn't matter right now."

She scoffed but said nothing.

The moment she told me the truth about herself and Reynard, I'd be more than happy to explain my behavior to her until she confessed. I guess we'll continue to lie to each other.

"I miss you," I professed to her. "Your here physically but your heart isn't here with me. Your mind is obviously somewhere else." A tear slid down her cheek and I brushed it away. "Tell me, please."

She shook her head. "I don't know what your talking about."

Her words made me lose a little more hope.

How could we salvage our relationship when she wouldn't acknowledge openly that there was a problem?

How could I make my wife realize that I still love her?

I'll probably always love her no matter how much loving her breaks me.