22
~Darlon's POV
The lounge lights glowed low and warm, throwing soft shadows across the marble floor. The movie flickered on the huge screen, but I barely noticed the characters talking. My mind wasn't on the plot; it was on my wife.
She was curled up on the couch, her knees pulled close, her eyes fixed on the TV like she was trying so hard to focus. Her hair brushed her shoulder every time she shifted. The scent of her shampoo, lavender and something faintly sweet, filled the space between us.
Every time she moved, I felt it. Every time she breathed, I noticed.
And I hated that I couldn't stop.
