Page 63 of My Wife

Tommy is dead. Unlike the other murders, Clay made it quick so that he wouldn’t suffer… much. Even so, my former lover turned his head, watching me with adoration in his dark blue eyes until the moment life winked out of them.

I didn’t turn away from him. Unlike Chase, I owed Tommy that much.

He loved me. Tommy Gillis loved me enough to wait. To be a shoulder to cry on, and the man who accepted that he would always be second place in my heart. He loved me enough to take whatever scraps I tossed his way, even knowing that I would always be Clayton Rivers’ wife.

He loved me—just not more than Clay did.

His eyes were wide open and still staring after he gasped his last breath. Clay bent low to close Tommy’s lids, then clicked his tongue when he saw that Tommy never even had the chance to flip open his switchblade before Clay sliced his throat.

Rising up, he looks at the blood on his knife. A few quick swipes against his dark jeans and the blade is clean again.

He clears his throat, and when he speaks, I can’t tell if it’s bloodlust from his recent kill or actual lust for his wife that has his voice so damn husky. “So, am I forgiven yet, baby?”

I don’t pretend not to know what he’s asking me. But, instead of answering him, I say, “Five lives. Aaron. Vee. Tyler. Summer. Tommy. One for every year you made me live without you. Think that’s enough?”

Something about my voice makes it clear to both of us thatIdon’t.

His head shoots over to meet my gaze. “I’d give you the whole fucking world if that’s what you want. Slaughter them all and lay their heads at your feet, Cyn. I worship you. I always have. Last night was just the start. I’ll do anything for you.”

My lips curve. Clay… he’s always known the right things to say to catch my attention.

He worships me?

Good.

I point to the grass. “Then get on your knees.”

He doesn’t even bother sheathing his knife. Tossing it to his side, he goes to the ground, watching me closely, waiting to see what I’m going to do.

I can’t help myself. The first time I ever slept with Clay, I did it along this very lake. It was his idea, but I won’t pretend that I was forced into it. Blackmailed, sure. Manipulated, definitely. But though I was loyal to Tommy until my mother told me she was remarrying and Isnapped, when Clay stepped out of the trees and said, “I saw what you did,” and I offered him whatever he wanted to keep quiet, I never in a million years thought he’d wantme.

It started out as sex. I refused to dump Tommy when I wasn’t even sure that Clay wouldn’t get what he wanted, then turn me in when he got bored. But that was when I was too oblivious to realize that my boyfriend’s best friend had been secretlyobsessed with me since freshman year. By the time we were seniors at GHS, he was sure he’d never get his chance—until he took it.

In a way, we were like Summer and Tommy, weren’t we? I gave Clay my body for his silence. Even before I went to live at the Rivers’ house—just another way he manipulated me, getting me close and tearing me away from Tommy—I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was cheating on Tommy, fucking his best friend behind his back.

But it was only sex then. I had no intention of falling for Clay, and since I didn’t plan on killing again, I had to do what I had to do to keep him quiet.

Then he demanded more from me. He demandedallof me. I ended things with Tommy when I admitted that I wanted Clay for myself, and knowing that I was the only one Clay loved… but he left me, and I’m not sure if I can ever get over that.

So I made him kill Tommy. Why not? It’s only fair he’s the one to make sacrifices this time.

Still. My blood is undeniably pumping. He choseme, didn’t he? Without a second thought, this new incarnation of Clay slaughtered his oldest friend, and he did it forme. He loves me, and the thrill of being so fucking essential to him that he’d discard a decade’s long plan because I demanded it…

I fucked Clay after I killed my mom. Now I’m going to fuck him after he killed Tommy.

And my ‘dead’ husband isn’t going to stop me.

He’s on his knees. Folding my sleep shirt under mine, I lower myself until I’m in front of him. My fingers dance across the bulge behind his jeans; like me, it looks like a little murder turns him on, too. Flicking open his button, tugging down the zipper easily… his hard cock all but jumps into my waiting palm.

I close my fingers around him and tug.

His eyes flutter closed. “Cyn…”

“You crept into my bed. You fucked me and never let me know you were there. You got me on my knees…” I twist the head of his cock, enjoying the control I have over this killer as his eyes snap back open. “You made me crawl, Clay.”

He smirks. “You loved it, baby. Admit it.”

Of course I did. Even when I was surehesnapped and wasn’t the man I married, when Clayton Rivers says crawl, I listen.

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