Chapter 3 WHERE DO YOU WANT ME TO TOUCH

In their first week of marriage, Brent occasionally reproached Alyssa for things he disliked, like the time she grabbed food from his plate during breakfast.

"Yours tastes better. Did you intentionally give me the lousy variant?" she accused sharply.

"You were the one who chose earlier, not me," he corrected.

"Yeah, you must have intentionally placed this plate closer to me, while distancing the other one. So you get the better one," Alyssa accused again.

Not wanting to continue the pointless argument, Brent pushed his plate toward her.

"You can have this."

"Oh, now you're exchanging it, where are you going?" she looked confused as he rose from his seat.

"You can eat both," he said. "Next time, I'll wake up earlier so we don't have breakfast together. Or if you want, you can eat in your room because I'm used to eating here," he said.

"Is that all, sulking like that? Seriously, if you're not willingly giving this to me-"

"I'm used to having a peaceful breakfast without any disturbance. I think this is a solution for our future, considering we have to live in the same house. We need to adjust to each other to avoid unnecessary debates. So, I hope you understand," he said before leaving Alyssa there.

That's why after that day, Alyssa never wanted to eat at the dining table again. She preferred bringing all her food into her room. Every time she saw Brent sitting at the dining table, memories of that day returned.

But today is different. Alyssa determined to do everything that will disturb Brent's comfort, including this.

So when she saw Brent enjoying his dinner at the table, she quickly sat in front of him. Alyssa even intended to grab the macaroni directly.

"It's yours on the stove, still warm. I just heated it," Brent said, pulling his plate away from her reach.

Alyssa snorted. It seems Brent is still the same as a year ago. A man who is so averse to direct contact with her.

It seems the incident this afternoon was just a way by him to hide his sexual identity. Because, not to mention direct contact, Brent is reluctant even to exchange food with her.

"No, I'm lazy to get it," she said. "Come on, just a little bit." She continued to reach for Brent's plate, causing him to shift it away.

Alyssa sighed, "Seriously, aren't you afraid of having a cramped grave? So stingy!"

"Wait a moment, let me get it for you." Ignoring her complaints, Brent got up and headed to the kitchen. There, he quickly transferred the macaroni from the stove to a plate.

As soon as he turned around, he found Alyssa trying to sneakily grab some of his macaroni.

She quickly chewed the food in her mouth, especially when Brent approached her with a serious expression.

"Spit it out, now!" Brent said, handing a tissue to her.

Of course, she doesn't comply, shaking her head while continuing to chew.

"Grace," Brent called. From his tone, it was clear he was seriously reprimanding her.

But she paid no attention, shaking her head and refusing Brent's command.

"It's up to you," Brent finally said. He then placed the plate in his hands on the table and returned to his seat. "But don't blame me if you can't go to work tomorrow."

Alyssa frowned in confusion. What did this food have to do with her job? Why was Brent so angry with her, to the point of wanting to interfere with her work?

"Are you threatening me just because I ate your food?" she spoke after successfully swallowing all the macaroni. "I never thought a Brent could be this childish," she teased.

"I'm not threatening you. But you're the one causing trouble," Brent said. "This macaroni has shrimp in it, that's why I got a special one for you. But you complained without letting me tell you. So don't blame me if you get rashes later."

She squinted, "Jerk, Brent! Why didn't you say it earlier?" she cursed as she rushed to the sink.

"Your allergy medicine is still in my room. I can get it if you want," Brent said casually, making her want to pull his hair.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" she still accused Brent of my own mistake.

Brent didn't respond, he was busy applying ointment to her reddening hands.

"Surely, you intentionally didn't mention the shrimp in your macaroni. So I'd eat, and then-"

Her words were cut off as Brent suddenly grabbed her left wrist while Alyssa was busy scratching her neck.

"Don't scratch, you might hurt yourself," he said.

She snorted, "Yeah, I know, but it's so itchy!" She tried to pull her hand away from Brent's grip, but he held it firmly.

"Which part is itchy?" Brent asked, getting a scrutinizing look from Alyssa. "Your nails are long, let me help," he explained.

If Alyssa hadn't remembered her plan, she could be sure that Brent would not only hear rejection but also curses and accusations of harassment.

"I don't mean anything weird. If you're uncomfortable, it's okay, I'm not forcing you," Brent said, as if understanding the meaning behind her earlier gaze.

Instead of responding to Brent's words, Alyssa raised both of her legs onto Brent's lap, pulling her hips closer to him. Without giving Brent time to interpret her movements, she immediately presented her neck in front of him.

"Here, it's really itchy," she said, half-whining. Alyssa gaze remained fixed on Brent, as if she didn't want to any possible reaction due to their current position.

However, to her surprise, there was none, Brent's facial expression remained calm as usual. It didn't take long for Brent to reach out his hand to her neck.

"Here?" he asked, making sure.

She nodded quickly.

Using the surface of his thumb, Brent gently rubbed the reddish area on Alyssa's neck. Strangely, it made her body tense.

Due to their close proximity, she could even feel Brent's breath on her neck, which, for some reason, made her blood rush, especially when the scent of Brent's body began to enter her sense of smell. Despite a thousand reasons she had to dislike Brent's presence, there was one thing she couldn't deny.

Alyssa really liked his scent. Brent's body odor was so soothing that it always brought calmness to anyone near him, including her. So it's no wonder that this afternoon, she easily fell asleep in Brent's lap.

Damn it, why was it she who reacted excessively like this, even when Brent himself seemed unaffected? In other words, he remained as calm as ever. And, of course, that annoyed her.

"Can't you scratch it properly?" She asked sternly.

"Not enough?" Brent retorted, starting to use his nails.

Alyssa sighed, frustrated that Brent still appeared unfazed. "Alright, change the spot," she said.

Brent furrowed his brow in confusion, especially when Alyssa suddenly lifted her nightshirt, exposing her smooth belly now covered with red rashes.

"Here," she said.

Brent remained motionless, looking at her as if unsure of Alyssa request. "Are you really asking me to-"

"Hurry up! So talkative!" She pulled Brent's hand and placed it on the surface of her flat stomach.

Alyssa caught a glimpse of Brent's changing expression for a few seconds before he finally complied with his wife's request.

Brent's fingers moved slowly, searching for the red spots causing the itching on her wife skin.

"Here?" Brent asked, making sure.

"No, higher," Alyssa replied. Unlike her own body's reactions, she was now more concerned about the reactions being shown by Brent. For the first time, Brent didn't seem as calm as usual.

"Here?" Brent asked again. His voice now carried a hint of uncertainty.

Alyssa shook her head once more. Her gaze had not left Brent's eyes, staring intensely, adding tension between them. "Higher, Brent," she requested.

Truly, what she uttered earlier was indeed something rare. Throughout their marriage, Alyssa strongly avoided using Brent's name. She could confidently say that it could be counted on one hand.

Though momentarily distracted, Brent eventually refocused on her wife flat stomach, searching for the red rash she mentioned. Unfortunately, Brent's view was obstructed by Alyssa nightshirt, still covering almost half of her body.

"Why so quiet?" She finally protested.

"I can't see where the redness is," Brent honestly replied.

She anticipated her own reaction, expecting to scold him or accuse him of taking advantage. However, to her surprise, she casually raised her nightshirt even higher, revealing the black bra she was wearing.

"Here," she said, guiding Brent's finger to touch the red rash just below the lace of Alyssa's bra.

Now, she could truly witness the tension evident on Brent's face.

The calm ocean-like expression he usually displayed had vanished.

"Here?" Despite his apparent hesitation, Brent began to move his finger, gently scratching the red area.

"Yes, right there." Intentionally, she made a sound as if I thoroughly enjoyed what Brent was currently doing to her. She even dramatized the atmosphere by giving a seductive expression to Brent.

"Stop, okay? I'm afraid it might actually hurt."

Alyssa shook her head, pouting, "No... don't stop...."

Brent sighed, trying his best not to direct his gaze at the tempting twin peaks still covered by the bra.

"Higher," she requested as Brent's finger moved.

"Here?" Brent slightly shifted his finger to the side.

"I said higher, not to the side."

"My finger is already up. Where do you want me to touch?" Brent bluntly asked, as if starting to realize that Alyssa was playing with him.

Feeling challenged by his question, without hesitation, Alyssa pulled his hand and placed it directly on her left breast.

"Here," she said casually.

Brent immediately withdrew his hand. "What are you doing?" His facial expression looked anything but relaxed, and Alyssa could sense the tension in his body.

For the first time, she perceived his expression so expressive about his actions. His visible discomfort made her burst into laughter, seemingly irritating Brent.

Without waiting for an explanation from Alyssa, Brent immediately got up, leaving her still chuckling mischievously.

To be continue...