Chapter 2: An Accusation
Slick with sweat and limp with ecstasy, Athena collapsed back into the bed, her mind befogged by the mind-blowing sex with Ewan.
Her slender form was still severely racked by the spasms of her strong release. And her earlier smouldering rage had subsided significantly.
Athena knew if she prolonged campaigning for her separation from Ewan, that she might never really leave him.
Yes, the sex was that good. It was one thing she wouldn't fault Ewan for. He was good in bed, so good that it numbed her of her thoughts most times, probably why she had remained in this marriage this long. But no more.
Within seconds of their shared orgasm, Ewan had untangled, disengaged, and distanced himself from her, lying on his back next to her with laboured, ragged breathing.
Even after all this time, his words—which were usually wrenched from him at his climax—remained suspended in the air between them and continued to cause more pain than was necessary.
"Give me a son, Athena..."
With those five words, he inevitably killed the afterglow, destroyed the intimacy of the moment and relegated the act into nothing more than a biological imperative.
After three years of the same, Athena had finally realized that it would never change. It had taken the events of today to tell her that.
That's why she held strong to her own five words!
They were words that had been on the tip of her tongue since he had met her in the bedroom after sending Fiona home two hours ago; words that had coated her mouth when he had plunged into her; words that she could no longer swallow back, no matter how much it killed her to say them.