Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) by Cat Porter

You’ve been burying it deep for years, and it’s eating at you,” he said. “It’s raw. On top of that, you must be horny as hell.”
    I stomped on his foot.
    He cocked an eyebrow in response. “These boots are way too thick for that shit, babe.”
    I really liked Butler’s frankness, but oh, how the truth stung.
    “I’m sure you’ve never had a no-sex problem or a boring sex problem,” I said.
    “Highs and lows of life, Tania. We all go through them.”
    “True, but over time, it’s easy to lose that sense of awe with your partner. You let it go like a helium balloon you watch waft away from you, higher and higher toward the sky. You start saying to yourself, Tomorrow, I’ll make an effort. Next week, we’ll go out to dinner, and I’ll get dressed up. Next summer, we’ll go on that vacation. ”
    “Tania, I was married once, and it was plenty good. It isn’t about dinners out and vacations. That shit’s real nice if you can swing it, but either you stay connected, or you don’t. It’s either important to you, that giving to your partner, and essential to you, like breathing, or it isn’t.”
    Essential .
    A swell of ugly emotions rose up inside me, and I averted my gaze as I hacked them up and shoved the jagged pieces down.
    Why did what he said make me so sad?
    Because I wasn’t, nor had I ever been, anyone’s essential anything.
    Butler had had that though. The man I’d once thought was nothing but a shallow, self-indulgent playboy had lived it; he knew.
    “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
    “You’re right. Absolutely right.” I gulped down more soda. “Kyle would get mean a lot of the time, too, and then laugh it off, like he was only teasing. He’d never apologize. Saying I’m sorry was a sign of weakness, I guess. God forbid I talk to him like that though. He’d carry on about how rude I was and that I made it hard for us to communicate.”
    My heavy gaze fell on the elderly couple next to us who shared a plate of French fries, dipping into the same puddle of ketchup. “I couldn’t sweep all those bad feelings under the carpet and open my legs for him at the end of the day. I couldn’t.” I expelled a deep breath. “I wanted something more out of marriage.”
    “That’s good.” His voice was low, quiet.
    My gaze found his warm one. “What’s good?”
    “That you’ve taken a stand for what you want, what you need.”
    I rested my head on my hand. “I must not be good at relationships or marriage. Maybe Kyle was right, and I’m selfish. Even you, the reformed reckless bad boy, know what a committed relationship should look like, smell like, feel like.” I raised my glass. “Here’s to you!”
    “You think I don’t know about pushing shit away? Caitlyn died over five years ago, and I haven’t been able to have anything real with another woman since. I’ve fucked everything in sight—which fed the need, as you said—but it didn’t do much for me at the end of the day.
    “When Grace came back, I convinced myself that she was my second chance. I saw her again after all those years, after all our pain—hers and mine—had subsided, and it was like I saw a light flickering in the dark, and I wanted its heat.” His brow furrowed. “Would’ve been so damn easy. We knew each other. The attraction was still there. But it wasn’t easy. It isn’t about easy, Tania.”
    “Attraction and chemistry should be easy.”
    “Definitely. But the rest of it—emotions, interests, the sharing—that shit takes commitment on a certain level. I’d figured, with Grace, it’d be real simple to coast through it all. She was my shortcut to having something real in my life again. I felt real good about landing the easy way.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I latched on to her for dear fucking life. What a jackass.”
    “Yeah, but you wanted it though, didn’t you? You thought you were ready, so you were willing, and you reached out. That’s a good sign, isn’t