Hold My Girl by Charlene Carr

Author:Charlene Carr
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2022-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

LATER THAT EVENING, Tracey’s final words in her mind, Katherine stepped into her bedroom. The sun’s last rays filtered through the sheer curtains, casting speckled light on the floor. Rose was asleep. Patrick was at work. Katherine pulled a box from the closet that she hadn’t opened in at least five years.

All month, her body had felt wound up, her nerve endings on high alert with the stress of the switch, the mediation and impending trial, the near radio silence from Adee, the fear life as she knew it would never be the same. She needed release, as Tracey indicated, a chance to step outside of her raving, consumptive thoughts. But more than that, she and Patrick needed to find a way back to each other. Katherine rifled through the flimsy items, her hand lingering over the delicate fabric. She needed to know that with all they had been through, all they were going through now, they were still them, still lovers, still wanted and needed each other. And after, maybe, they would be able to talk in a way they hadn’t since long before all of this began. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone.

By eight o’clock Katherine had her hair styled, her makeup on, her body squeezed into the most forgiving pieces of lingerie she owned. At the sound of Patrick’s car in the driveway, she turned off the TV, positioned herself on the couch, her body displayed to best advantage, and placed a seductive smile on her face.

She listened as he tossed the keys on the bench by the door—not in the bowl, by the sound of the dull thunk rather than clink—kicked off his shoes, and pulled wide the fridge door. The ting of a beer can opening sounded through the quiet house. Silence, as he must have been swallowing, then footsteps.

“Oh!” Patrick stopped short as he stepped into the living room.

“Hi.” Katherine kept her voice low.

“You look . . . I mean . . . Wow.”

“Come on over.”

Patrick stood, unmoving. “I’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Let me make that better.”

Patrick’s shoulders slumped. He came to the couch. Katherine shifted, then once he’d sat, she climbed on his lap, straddling him.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered.

“Me too.” She kissed him. “We need this.”

“I—”

She kissed him again, his closed mouth slowly opening, his tongue exploring, his hands gripping her bottom, bringing her closer. Katherine’s heart raced. She was so wet, so ready, but it’d been forever since they’d drawn out foreplay—years. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy the yearning, wait till she was desperate. She pulled back, then started working her mouth along his neck, the tip of his earlobe. He groaned.

After the mandated six weeks following Rose’s birth, they’d tried, at Katherine’s insistence, to finally have sex. But it hurt too much. And she was tired. She’d been touched all day and through most of the night, attending to Rose’s needs. She’d initiated, for Patrick’s sake, yet he’d seemed to understand intuitively that the last thing she wanted was to be touched more.

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