Chapter Eighteen
Sex and Trees
Six months later . . .
When I first learnt to belly dance, I hadn’t been touched by a man for ages, and even then, it was hardly memorable. I was gagging for it, and belly dancing filled the need—until I met Steven. Being with him was as delicious as chocolate and as easy as emptying a box of them.
He loved to touch and was so good at it.
His hellos were gentle pats and soft kisses. He’d stretch for my hand without thinking and cuddled in at night with each hand on my breast, and I always loved it—until Baby Bea came along. Now the last thing I felt like was s*x, let alone being touched; when Steven slid beside me, I pulled away.
He never said anything; in fact, I thought he’d given up. Instead, he would glance at me with how bad are things? looks, and
