Page 16 of Wrecking Ball
I slowly take steps to where she is still leant against the worktop. “Spend the day hand-in-hand, swooning over each other,” I say as I come to a stop in front of her, my hands going either side of her, caging her in. I lean in close, my face a whisker from hers. The tension between us is unreal, and I wish to God that she would just give in and let me take her, right here, right now.
She scoffs but it holds no ground with me. I see that she wants me, it’s right there, in her eyes. She can’t hide it from me.
“A nice meal, a few glasses of wine and then a stroll through the park, stopping every few seconds because we can’t keep our hands off of one another. And when our lips meet, it will be like nothing else exists,” I whisper, the tension ramping up a few notches, her breathing a little deeper.
“You’re fucking with me, right?” she whispers back as she tries to give me a death stare and fails.
“Not if that’s what you want to do.”
“No thanks,” she replies before she dips down and under my arm, escaping me. “I’d rather gouge my eyes out,” she throws over her shoulder before she disappears into the hallway, taking her coffee with her.
Huh. So I guess the emotional moment from last night has passed.
This is going to be fun.
* * *
Kat
“Dick, dick, dick, dick, dick,” I repeat as I make my way back to my bedroom, thoroughly pissed off with the way that Nate speaks to me. Who does he think he is? Fucking smug bastard.
He thinks that he can get in my knickers, and that is never happening, even if my traitorous body thinks different. I can feel my pussy tingling whenever he gets close, but fuck if she’s getting any from him.
I take a big mouthful of my coffee before placing it on the bedside table and sitting on my bed, throwing myself back dramatically as I stare at the ceiling.
I’m pissed, angry, mad.
I’m mad at myself for wanting him.
I’m angry at him for things being the way they are between us. The hot and cold, the push and pull, the arrogance of him needing to get his own way all the damn time.
And I’m pissed that he saw me at my most vulnerable last night.
I need to get out of here and clear my head, but I have nowhere to go and no one to call. What a pathetic life. I mean, look at me, thirty-two years old, no friends, no family, just a husband that fucking infuriates me, a husband who I despise and want to fuck at the same time, and nothing in this life to fill me with hope.
How did it come to this?
I feel my eyes burn with unshed tears and I angrily blink them away. Crying will solve nothing, so why bother?
A knock on my door interrupts my miserable thoughts.
Great. The beast has come back to try and piss me off further.
He doesn’t wait for an invite as the door opens. I don’t move, I stay led on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t deserve my attention.
I listen to his footsteps pad lightly across the carpet, and then I feel the bed dip bedside me.
Mother of f––
“You gonna hide out in here all day?” he asks as I feel him lay down next to me, his body an inch or two from mine.
Oh great, another moment where he can mind-fuck me and then flip the switch from light to dark once again. I’m going to have to be stronger than this to keep living this life.
“You ever heard of waiting to be invited in?” I say, ignoring his question, keeping my eyes trained on the ceiling.
“I shouldn’t have to be invited in. It’s my house and you’re my wife,” he says, and don’t his words just fuck me off. I sit up and turn to face him, my face showing every single emotion because I can’t hide it.
“Yes, I am your wife when it suits, when it is convenient for you, hence why you have me here, but don’t think that means that you can come into my own personal space and do what the hell you want,” I huff. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
