Pulling free, I lean my forehead against hers, those eyes I’m afraid will soon be looking at me full of pain are filled with desire.
I breathe in her sent. It’s a damn mistake because that desperation hits my nose, my mouth. It pushes me closer to that freight train as I inhale the familiar scent.
A collision on a lonesome highway to hell.
She smells like violets from the same cheap perfume she still wears. I gave her a bottle of it for her tenth birthday. For some reason, I’m noticing it now more than I ever have.
Undoubtedly a sign.
White violets. Meaning, innocent with a heavy dose of honesty and faithfulness. It’s a comfort; it’s home. It’s my wife.
I chuckle, lost to everything that is and isn’t innocent about this woman.
I can’t tell her, not yet.
My stomach opens, gladly digesting my dishonesty. I’ll fail as a husband more than I have if I don’t tell her. I’ll bulldoze my marriage all to hell and leave a heap of wreckage behind if I don’t.
Unbuildable and unsalvageable.
“What’s so funny?” She asks, voice heady and raspy — another shot to my dick.
“There are hundreds of perfumes out there, and you still wear White Violets. It cost twelve bucks a bottle. On you, it smells like it cost a million. You smell so damn good.”
A shiver rolls through her body when I press into her, a gust of air escaping her lungs.
I suck it in, wanting to take her right here.
“Yeah, well, I love the smell not only because violets smell good, because you gave it to me, Mason. Besides, who wants to spend money on things they don’t want or need.”
Not Eden, that’s for sure. She barely spends a dime on unnecessary things — one of the many reasons why I love her.
“I love you, Eden Whitaker.”
“I love you too. Now, are you going to take me home and show me how much?”
I squeeze her ass, shamelessly rubbing her against my dick, not caring if anyone sees us. It wasn’t like there weren’t pictures of us caught in this same position before. Neither of us cared. It only padded the gossip-rag magazine's pockets and brought the bottom feeders to surface who claim to be fans feeding into the bullshit stories.
Calling us exhibitionists for the cameras. Claiming our marriage wasn’t as good as it looked. If they only knew how wrong they are.
I’d die for this woman, that’s how deep my love runs for her.
“Maybe I’ll take this ass tonight. Make you come long and hard.” Watching my wife come is one of the sexiest things.
Jesus.
What the hell am I doing by getting her all riled up only to knock her down?
Disgusted and pathetic. That’s what I am. I’m going out of my mind with everything flying around through it.
“I do not doubt that big guy. Let’s go.”
Sliding her hand into mine, we step our way through the door. My heart splatters to the ground as soon as flashes go off in our face. One after the other that all I can do is shield Eden’s from the onslaught.
Fucking hell.
“There they are.” Someone shouts, and before I know what’s happening, more men and women than I have time to count come crashing at us from all sides. The young men from the valet and other customers back away with wide eyes as if they are the ones running from a stampede about to plow them over.
Dread.
It slithers down my spine, fingers spreading and cutting off my air supply. There are at least fifty reporters here from the main stations to the dirty filthy magazines filled with lies.
What in the fuck is going on?
“Oh, God. There are so many of them. What are they doing? I thought we were over the days of them hounding us, damn them.” Eden whispers, gripping my hand tighter and putting her head down.
I have a feeling they know. That’s what the hell they are doing.
Bullshit.
I smell it along with mine from where I stand. Someone fucking leaked.
Son of a bitch.
Who? Now that is the question of the day?
Damn it.
“Go back inside and let the manager know what’s happening, I’ll get the car and pick you up in the back,” I whisper in her ear.
“No, give me the valet ticket, I’ll have someone get the car and swing it around back. I’ll drive us out of here, not like I haven’t done it before. This, though, this is insane, Mason. They weren’t even this bad after your matches.”
Before I can hand over the ticket to get her out of here, I hear it. The question that no one should know. It drains the blood from my face. It makes my wife stiffen at my side, and her fingers unclasp from mine.
“Mason, is it true you're planning a fight with Jacob ‘The Golden Boy’ Lawson? The public has a right to know if what we heard is true, no better way than from the horse's mouth. Does this mean you’ll be coming out of retirement? When is the fight? Is this a fight for the belt? Will you finally tell the world what made you decide to retire in the first place?” The questions come at us like a flogging.
Very few people know why I retired. I didn’t break any rules; I announced my retirement and went about my life. It was our business, and it still is. And the source behind this leak? Whoever it is, will soon feel the sting of my punch — square in the goddamn face.
Someone needs facts before they open their mouths. It’s no wonder the press is hated by so many.
Fear of what this will do to Eden lumps in my chest, I can see the wonder, the pain. The questions from her as she backs away from me, shaking her head, but still keeping it down the way she always has. Not once has she spoken unless we’ve been interviewed before or after a fight or by one of the few reporters in the industry we respect.
She’s left it up to me, and now I have no idea what to say to her or them.
I need her eyes. I need her back by my side because fuck, I can’t walk away and not give them something. If I do, it’s going to have rumors flying more than they are.
Microphones are being shoved in my face. Flashes blind me. They circle like vultures, and still, I don’t take my eyes off of my wife, whose composure remains strong as always. I know her, though, and she’s breaking in front of my eyes.
Frail and angry and unbelievably gutted to her very core.
Horror strikes her beautiful face when she glances at me. Tears swell, and that’s when I see it, the way she looks at me briefly before shuttering the shock behind those eyes that are used to reporters bombarding us wherever we go.
Betrayal and distrust.
Chapter Four
Eden
I control my shaking and try to piece together my thoughts as I drop to my knees and retch. Tears fall down my face, stinging and burning my cheeks. A sob rattles out of my throat while my insides scrunch together in the most excruciating kind of pain.
“You lying, sneaky son of a bitch.”
My heart’s thrashing stupidly hard in my chest. It’s banging against my breastbone, cutting off my air supply, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“How could you hide this from me?”
Anxiety places a strong sense of discomfort like I’ve never felt before in my heart. It feels as if Mason has grasped hold of my soul with his hands and crushed it to dust. All I can think about is why my husband would do this to him and me.