My ex-husband's nightmare - Chapter 58: Chapter 58

Mason
Blood oozed out of my hand. How did I cut the back of my hand? Lydia sat staring at me, not bothering to stand.
“Are you still a child?” I closed my eyes dramatically, hoping to get more sympathy from her.
She finally stood, “I got cut trying to help you.” I said.
“I never asked for your help.” She sounded cold, as if she was blaming me for getting my hand cut, which would, in turn, lead to the preparation of the meal being delayed.
She moved towards me, then picked my hand and examined it, “it's not that bad, quit being dramatic.” She said and then sighed.
“Will you help me tend to it?”
“Would you rather go to the hospital?” She asked in reply.
“You don't use questions to answer questions,” I said, and for a moment, I could swear something flashed through her eyes.
Concern.
But it left as quickly as it came.
She pressed her lips together, her hand still holding mine, she threw her head to the side. I followed her gaze, looking over the sitting room, which was in view from where we stood.
“Come with me,” She said.
She didn't let go of my hand. Her hands were warmed against mine.
I tried not to focus on the touch, directing all my attention to the pain, but with her beside me, it wasn't so bad anymore.
If only I get to have her touch and hold me like this, then I would gladly do this again.
She stopped in front of one of the couches.
There are four couches in the sitting room with a table in the middle.
I sat when she let go of my hand, “the first aid box is in the usual place.” I said to her, and without a word, she walked away.
I held my hand; blood was still pouring, rolling down the sides of my hand.
She returned shortly with a kit. She placed it on the table in front of us and opened it.
When she sat, her nightwear rode higher on her thighs, exposing more of her milky skin. I didn't remove my gaze; if she caught me staring at her lustfully, she didn't say anything about it.
Her hair fell to both sides of her face as she helped clean the wound. A sharp pain ran through my hands.
But I was too focused on her to be disturbed by it.
Her eyes are focused on my hand; my mind reverted to the time in the hospital when she had helped tend to my burn.
She pushed her hair back with one hand before returning to what she was doing. I noticed that her earrings were gone and so were her necklace, and bracelet.
“All these times you left, those five years you stayed away, did you perhaps go into the medical field? How are you so good at this?”
She doesn't reply, “Stay still, Mr. Woods, and it would be best if you don't speak to me,” She said.
Why was she so sharp?
I tried to take my eyes away from her, but I couldn't.
I rest my eyes on her chest, “Lydia.” I called in a low voice.
I called her again when she didn't reply. “I'm not deaf, you know. If you want to speak, just do that,” she said.
Sigh.
She placed a band-aid over the cut after cleaning and stopping the blood.
“Do you hate me?” I asked. She paused, she didn't lift her head, and just continued without answering me.
“I've been thinking about it. I know we didn't end in the best way years ago. And that we…” I drew in a scent of breath.
“I'll understand if you hate me. But I just thought you'd want to know that I-”
“There you go, all done.” She interrupted me. “You should be more careful. This would be the last time I tend to any injury of yours.’” She raised her eyes and met mine briefly.
Then, she began to place the antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, scissors and other things she brought out back into the kit.
“And don't you dare think I'm at fault? You caused what you got yourself, on both occasions. If only you were careful this would have been avoided.”
She stood ready to return the kit, but I caught her hand and pulled her towards me.
I want to say those words. I don't want to keep holding them back. Even if she cuts me off a million times, I'll say it.
She is now seated close to me, and I am holding her hands firmly; she didn't try to remove herself from me or anything.
Her head is tilted up, staring into my eyes.
“I miss you, Lydia,” I said, and her eyes twitched. I bite the inside of my lips.
I can hear my heart hitting my chest in my ear.
“You don't know, but those times I stayed away from you were pure torture. And then I heard you were dead I couldn't…”
“You divorced me, Mason.” She blinked rapidly, her chest rising and falling.
“You told me to sign those divorce papers.” She said in a low but firm voice.
“I did,” but what I really wanted to say was that I think I regret it.
“You told me that you…” she stopped herself, and I inhaled loudly. Let me go,” she said instead.
But her eyes said something different; the way she shuffled her body into mine told me otherwise.
I brush my hand over her hair, staring deep into her eyes.
“Let me go.” Her voice was weak, and her eyes were closed as I brushed her hair off her face.
“I miss you a lot, especially at night.” I don't try to juice my words.
“I don't care.” Her eyes opened, and I could see desire in her eyes.
My cock hardens pressing against my trousers.
“You didn't miss me? Do you mean you didn't miss those nights?” I pulled her forward, pressing her against my chest.
I moved closer to her ear and whispered, “You didn't miss those long passionate nights we had together where you moaned my name loudly?”
She threw her head back, she wants me as much as I do.
I moved backwards, but she didn't avoid my eyes. She adjusts herself in my hold, and her hands move around my neck, leaving me momentarily stunned.
“You want to know?” Her eyes are fixed on my lips, and she wet hers.
I nodded in reply to her question, and before I could say any other words, her lips met mine.