I gnashed my teeth at her but relinquished my hold. “Fine.”
I wanted to sit next to her, but I wanted to see her, so I got myself a fork and stayed standing. It was worth it to see those big eyes roll and her mouth stop moving as she savored her first bite. “I’ll admit, I didn’t know if it would taste as good as it smelled, but damn, Delouxe.” She took another bite, mumbling, “So good.”
“I’ll admit to wondering the same thing myself,” I said, sinking my fork into the warm meat and cheesy mess. “About you.”
Fern quit chewing, her cloudy eyes shooting to mine. That maddening rosy tint flooded her cheeks, and she looked down.
I smiled around my fork, chewing with immense pleasure that I still affected her, perhaps even more than I once did.
We ate in silence for a few minutes even though I longed to hear her babble in that way of hers. She was starving, so I let her eat, content to watch as I demolished everything on my plate and went for seconds.
“More?” I asked, setting my food down.
“Please,” she said, her eyes huge.
I slid another slice onto her plate and handed it over. Her tongue swept around her lips to clean them, and then she dug in again.
“You regret last night?” I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know. It was probably better I didn’t. I also probably should’ve felt a little bad about taking that from her after all the shit I’d put her through, but I didn’t.
She was well aware of that, too.
Fern ate a few more mouthfuls, and I could tell by the way she watched her plate that she was struggling with what to admit. “I wouldn’t say that,” she finally said and set her fork down.
I straightened, taking her water and draining half of it. “What would you say then?”
She frowned at the red smudges from my mouth around the bottle’s rim, then gave me her eyes. “I just… I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Did you lace this?”
I almost spat water into her face, choking as I forced it down my throat too quickly. “Sure, Red. I laced it.” I leaned over the counter, whispering with a grin, “With love.”
Her face was instantly on fire, her lips parting.
The front door crashed open. “Jude?”
Sighing, I tore myself away from my wife as Silas entered the kitchen. His face was busted up, blood coating his sweaty hair. “I was wondering where you were last night.”
He looked from Fern to me. “I’ll bet you were.” He jerked his head to the doorway.
Reluctantly, I followed him upstairs.
“Where’d they find you?” I asked, entering the bathroom as he ripped off his soiled T-shirt.
“I was conned into a nice family dinner,” he said, his voice strained. “They didn’t need to find shit because I walked right into the lion’s den. Again.”
I turned on the shower for him, then opened the cupboard to search for the rubbing alcohol and drugs. We had nothing.
Fully stocked house, my ass.
Standing, I muttered, “I’ll go get you some shit.”
“Weed, too please.”
“There’s some in my bathroom.” I cursed when I saw his back and chest; every inch of him was black and blue, and smeared with blood. “Why didn’t you just fucking show up?”
He pulled off his jeans, stumbling into the wall with a groan. Even his legs were scratched and bruised. “I’ve hurt her enough.”
Usually, I’d have a retort along the lines of, “stupid, pussy-whipped motherfucker.”
Now, the twinge of empathy in my chest stopped me from being a prick.
Most likely because I knew the feeling. I’d tried to get rid of it, but I’d learned I’d never be able to forget it.
When I returned, Fern was in bed.
I’d stood outside her room, hand hovering over the handle, then lifting and poised to knock. I think I repeated the pointless process seven times before forcing myself to leave her alone.
Aside from watching her run out the door yesterday, I hadn’t seen her in two days.
I hated how much that bothered me, and how much it thrilled me to see her car pull in the drive from my bedroom window.
I felt like I was living back home and messing with the girl next door all over again.
Only now, she was my wife, and there was nothing secret about it.
I wasn’t sure if that was why this growing desperation to make it real had unsheathed itself, unfurling like a wanton beasts wings, growling with eagerness to take flight.
All I knew with a certainty that plagued my every thought of her, was that I couldn’t leave her alone.
The curtains had been removed, exposing the savage internal struggle within. The only difference between now and five months ago was that I couldn’t close them again. I couldn’t shut her out if I tried, but I attempted to anyway.
I tried, and I failed, and after I heard her finish in the shower, I followed the sound of her horrendous humming downstairs. I was greeted by the clang of a stainless mixing bowl and a pan hitting the counter, and the fabulous sight of her ass swaying beneath an oversized worn blue sleep shirt. Her earbuds were in, her hips wriggling as she doused a baking tray with butter.
Amused, I leaned against the arched entryway, waiting until she noticed I wasn’t sleeping.
“You think I don’t see you there?” she said, tossing flour into the bowl and grabbing some eggs. “Feel you watching me?”
Jerked back in time, I released a gruff laugh, but it faded when I remembered what I’d done at that party. The way just a glimpse of her had made me want to crawl to her. “No one has ever infuriated me as much as you.”
“I suppose that should be a compliment,” she muttered, mixing her ingredients.
“Of epic proportions,” I said, meaning it.
She thought it was a joke, shaking her head as she smiled sadly at the bowl.
“Cookies?” I asked, pushing off the wall to stalk closer.
Fern didn’t move, just kept mixing away, so I enclosed her from behind and braced my hands on the counter. “Choc chip.”
I could’ve imagined it, or maybe I’d pressed forward, but her back hit my chest, and the scent of her shampoo infiltrated. My eyes shuttered. Her hair was in a topknot, spirals spilling down to kiss her slender neck.
I kissed it, too, holding my breath while I waited to see if she’d pull away.
Her shoulder tipped up, a small giggle leaving her as she lifted her finger toward me.
I stared at the batter sitting there, and then I sucked her finger into my mouth. Instead of releasing her, I turned her around so those tits pressed into my chest instead of her back. “I’ve thought about you.”
She stuck her finger in her mouth even though I’d left not a trace of batter behind.
The blatant desire for me in the action spiked through me, and blood rushed to my already hard dick.
She released her finger with a pop and leaned back into the counter, her eyes narrowing. “And in what manner have you thought about me?”
I wasn’t scared about possibly giving her the wrong answer. That was one of the things I liked most about this wife of mine—her innate excitement for me, no matter what I said, and no matter what she said or did to try to prove otherwise. “Every manner possible.”