I was raised that marriage would make everything that was dirty okay. Another time I'd be slower, but now I wrapped my hand around him, let the thick round hardness of him fill my hand. I let out a breath that was even, and my voice sounded normal, but I couldn't help it. Bully for you, I said, and I knew I should have pulled the trigger, should have ended it.
He took one step toward the far door, and I yelled, Stop, or I shoot. But it was too late. His hand was very warm in mine, and that one small touch was enough, enough to bring some of the careful shielding down. You'll be pissed with yourself, and me, and I don't want that.
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