Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(26)

Until now.

Lehi waited for me to lie down on the bed before removing his clothing. He stared down at my bare breasts as he stripped himself of his shirt and pants.

I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

Just as every time before this, our intercourse followed the same pattern. He pushed into me and I struggled to relax my muscles, allowing him in. The whiskers of his beard scratched the surface of my skin like the needles of a porcupine, and I closed my eyes at the uncomfortable sensation. As he continued, my mind wandered and I pretended. Oh, did I pretend.

Instead of Lehi’s rigid body, the heat of Porter was now above me, entering me again and again. The hot breath on my arm was Porter’s, evidence of his desire for me. I imagined his blue eyes focused on mine as he ran his fingers through my hair, igniting something inside me I never thought possible.

The pulsing I’d awoken to several times in the past month returned, this time while laying with my husband. Lost in thoughts of Porter, I drove my hips forward, matching his momentum and his desire for me. Again and again, I thrust the lower half of my body, determined to show Porter exactly how he made me feel.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” a gruff voice said against my shoulder and I gasped. Lehi had pulled me from my fantasy and dropped me unhappily into reality. My eyes shot open and I stared up at the ceiling, horrified at the feel of his skin against mine, like sandpaper against the soft, delicate curves of a porcelain cup.

When Lehi groaned and collapsed on my chest, a tear slid from my eye. A tear of guilt.

I’d just cheated on my husband, which made me the lowest of the low. Even though he’d been the one to lay with me, I’d forgotten all about him and had given myself to another man in my mind.

When the tear rolled down my cheek and dropped to my bare shoulder, I knew. It was done.

I was damned.

Lehi pulled his boxer shorts on and turned to me. “I’ve never seen you like that. I could tell how turned on you were, the way you moved. It was sexy.”

“Oh,” I muttered, pulling myself to a seated position in the bed, pulling the covers to my breasts, noting the sensation against my taut nipple.

“You’re coming into your own. That’s a good thing.”

“Thank you.” I nodded.

“I hope you’ll be like that from now on. It was enjoyable for me, that’s for certain.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I gripped the sheet, realizing with dread that I’d changed everything between my husband and myself. I’d changed my role and altered his expectations. If he’d only known why I moved that way, why my hips thrust against his, and why my private parts throbbed with anticipation and lust.

I was so ashamed, utterly and completely ashamed. How could I have done this? How could I have let myself spin so out of control and deceive my husband?

And Heavenly Father. I had sinned against Heavenly Father in an unforgivable manner.

As desperately as I wanted to be forgiven, I wasn’t sure that was even possible. In fact, I was pretty certain my fate had been sealed.

I was damned.

And it scared me to death.




Chapter 11

Repentance is difficult when you resent it.

Two weeks ago, I’d cheated on my husband in my heart, and every day since then I’d been doing my best to repent. When I thought of Porter, I pinched the skin just above my wrist to snap myself out of it. When Leandra asked me to go into town today, I lied and told her that I was needed at my mother’s house. My father was out of town and mother was suffering from a bad case of the flu. That was the truth. But Mother hadn’t asked me to come by. I told myself that it was a lie with a purpose—it kept me from going into town. It kept me from allowing temptation to take over my body and lead me straight to the apartment above the coffeehouse.

But I resented it.

I wanted to walk to Porter’s apartment. I wanted to be pushed up against his wall. I wanted the touch of his thumb against my wrist rather than the sharp pinch of my own fingernails.

“What are you doing?” Aspen asked, gesturing to my wrist, angry and blotchy from my own efforts. Quickly, I dropped my hands to my side and looked straight ahead.

“Nothing. I think I have a rash.”

“Mm-hmm.” The skepticism in Aspen’s voice was apparent, but I ignored it. Aspen was walking to my mother’s house with me. She’d offered to join me to get out of the house since she’d been left in charge of all the children the day before.

“It’s a gorgeous day.”

Aspen was overly chipper on that day. Not that she was a particularly somber person; she wasn’t. But she was, in many ways, the yin to my yang when it came to personality. Devout plural wife and follower of Heavenly Father, she was proud of her role in the Cluff family. She was proud of her three children and hoped they’d marry in their teens, just like she had. She wanted their place in the celestial kingdom to be secured, just like her own.

She was sharp and opinionated, but she knew exactly when and where she could safely express those opinions without jeopardizing her relationship with Lehi, Leandra, or the prophet.

Aspen was also the most perceptive of the sister wives. I used to think she had some sort of mind-reading abilities, and it took me some time to feel comfortable with her for just that reason. When you were having doubts about your faith, your life, and your husband, the last thing you wanted was for someone to be listening in on your private thoughts.