SERGIO

Michaela hummed. “And after New York, you’re heading to Dallas, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m presenting at the Black Film Awards.”

“Another month of barely seeing each other,” she mused.

“Mick, come on.” I paused the movie while pushing out a sigh. “I know it’s hectic right now, but the holidays are around the corner and–”

“And when the new year comes, you’ll be traveling again and it’ll be award season. I know, Serg.” Her mouth twisted. I could tell she was holding back, and that shit made my ears hot.

“Are you not coming with me to the Golden Globes and Oscars?”

My forehead wrinkled at the incredulity in her tone. Walking the red carpet together had been our dream since ‘Mama and Me’ premiered two years ago. 

“Of course I am. It’s just… nevermind. I’m going to bed.” She attempted to leave my lap, but I held her in place.

“Talk to me, Mick.”

Her coffee-colored eyes darkened, and her nostrils flared. We hardly talked anymore. Our text messages were quick updates, and phone calls were few. When I was home, Michaela would be working at The Plant Shop with Kamryn or in her greenhouse in the backyard. I wasn’t sure how we got here or why we let it get this bad, but I needed for us to get back on track. 

“What is it you need from me?”

Michaela sighed. “I’m tired and I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not fighting, baby.” 

I kissed her neck, pleased with the soft moan that slipped from her lips. After dropping a few more kisses on her shoulder, she relaxed in my arms. I could sense her guard lowering. She used to be so open and honest with me. I didn’t have to force her to share her feelings and thoughts. It was harder for me to gauge her these days. Her eyes were unreadable and tone stayed level, even when we were disagreeing. I hated it. There was nothing I disliked more than seeing my wife unhappy. Whatever I needed to do to smooth things over, I would do it.

“I miss you,” she confessed moments later. “You’re hardly home anymore. And when you are home, you’re here working.” 

I untied her robe and slipped my hands in between her thighs. A smile covered my face when I learned she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She opened her legs for me, her heated gaze never wavering from mine. 

“I miss you too.” I groaned at the feel of her wetness. “I know I haven’t been the best husband lately. Mick, I will make it up to you. I promise.”

“Talk is cheap.”

My mouth slouched as I nodded. It was going to take more than conversation to fix this, noted. “True. Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?” 

She shrugged. “Depends. How much longer until you come to bed?”

I repositioned her on my lap so that she was sitting in the middle. Using my thumb, I ran slow circles around her clit while kissing and nipping her neck. She held onto the arms of my chair and laid her head on my shoulder. Her moans were soft and filled with desire. My other hand traversed her frame from her stomach to her taut nipples. I gently tweaked and tugged her nipples, pulling another moan from her. 

Damn, it had been so long since I felt her and held her this close. In the beginning, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I refused to believe it was because we were newlyweds. I didn’t want to believe in the “honeymoon” stage because what we had was deeper than that. Our arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it worked out in our favor. I had fallen in love with Michaela and couldn’t imagine my life without her. 

“Serg, I need to feel you,” she breathed.

I kissed the curve of her neck. She didn’t know how desperately I needed to feel her. Just a few days ago, Tia made a remark about how tense I’d been lately. I could only attribute the stress to upcoming deadlines and constant traveling. Never would I admit it was because I had been neglecting my wife at home. Not only was it no one’s business, I was ashamed of becoming such a shit husband. A husband so consumed with work and his career that I forgot about the blessing I had at home.

I lifted Michaela from my lap and turned her to face me. Unmitigated desire and longing danced in her eyes. My dick throbbed at the mere sight of her. Michaela was breathtaking. I cupped her cheek, taking in her radiant mocha colored skin, coffee brown eyes, round nose, and soft full-shaped lips. She held onto the edge of my desk as I pulled down my joggers and underwear. I hooked my arm around her waist to hoist her onto the desk. She shuddered a breath when my dick reached her opening. Michaela’s head fell back as I inched into her. I hissed at her warmth and tightness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, staring deeply into her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and looked away. That shit hit me right in the chest. Even during sex, she remained distant. I rocked into her, my cadence slow and sensual as I slipped her robe from her shoulder. “Look at me.”

When she didn’t, I cupped her cheek, bringing her attention back to me. 

“How can I fix it?”

She shook her head; tears pooling in her eyes. “Not now,” she breathed. “I don’t want to talk.”

Shit.