Free Salt Water Wounds (Oyster Cove #1) by Jennifer Foor Page B

have if I’d only give it a chance. Back then I wasn’t having it, and almost found her advances offensive, because I was still coping, my mind focused on my loss instead of my future. I haven’t changed much since then. I still worry about my wife, and hope she’s with me in spirit. That’s why dating someone else seems so unnatural. I feel like Layla will be looking over my shoulder, constantly judging me for my actions. I feel like she could sabotage me from the beyond the grave. The thing is, I can see myself with Perry. I can picture her touch, and it doesn’t make me feel guilty when it happens, not unless I dwell on it.
    I know what my kids would say about it, at least the boys. They’ve been on me for years to find someone to spend time with. They tell me I come home at night and mope around. The porch I sat outside tonight with Perry was mine and my wife’s special place. It’s where we could get away from the kids and be alone together. We shared a lot of talks and even arguments on that particular screened in porch. Maybe I’m overthinking the whole ordeal, but I feel like allowing Perry to sit with me tonight somehow changed things. I enjoyed having her here with me. It was nice to be able to speak to someone who can answer back.
    On the other hand, I feel like an asshole because of what Bristol said.
    Something has to give. I’m tired of being alone, of hurting in what seems like an endless pain.
    It’s the middle of the night before the next storm rolls in. I’ve tossed and turned battling my emotions and decide to go back outside to see if it will settle me. As the rain falls from the sky in large drops, splashes come in through the screen, hitting me at a constant rate. It’s refreshing more than annoying. I need my ill assumptions to wash away with the tides. I’m tired of feeling weak and alone. I’m not saying I want to jump in the sack with Perry or anyone else, but I at least want to feel like I don’t have to ask permission if the opportunity arises.
    Some people think I’m crazy for going so many years without the touch of a woman. It’s actually almost eight years since I’ve been intimate with anyone. Layla’s cancer may have been fast moving, but she’d lost interest in sexual activity way before her diagnosis. Life got in the way, so I didn’t bother asking, until it was too late.
    At first it was uncomfortable. I considered getting a girlfriend for the sole purpose of sexual satisfaction, but felt like Layla would watch me. It was torture.
    I know it’s ridiculous. I’m a grown man who lives with the assumption that my dead wife is still making decisions for me. Maybe I need a shrink instead of a girlfriend.
    While I try to comprehend my indifferences, I hear the sound of the slider opening. Perry has changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, and since it’s chilly I can tell she’s not wearing a bra underneath. The slightest thought causes parts of me to awaken.
    “The storm is keeping me awake,” she whispers while taking her first step onto the porch.
    I stand to greet her, not knowing if it’s my body or mind making the decision to do so. “Me too.”
    Her eyes are locked on mine, her hands grazing each of my arms as she inches even closer. I can feel her breath against my skin, her body pressing over the front of me. “Storms like this get me freaked out. I was hoping you’d be the distraction I need tonight, Buck. It’s just us right now. You and me. Just let it happen.” She brings one hand up and glides a few fingers over my lips. My eyelids shut as I take in the experience of feeling someone intimately touching me after a long bout of dormancy. It’s electrifying, much like the lightening illuminating the sky around us. She’s meticulous as she continues to trace them, parting them enough in order to lean in and coarse her puffy lips across. This precise moment sends my limbs into overdrive. My senses begin to awaken, and I’m forced to allow