Page 19 of The Hand that Frays

CHAPTER SIX

LYLA

Breakfast this morning was a delicious spread of pastry and coffee at a cafe we walked to. Now, we’re wandering through the British Museum, hand in hand.

It’s the most normal I’ve felt since I met Neo, and I don’t know if I like it. I know there’s an underlying reason we’re here in London.

I even know her name.

I also know why her story triggered Neo to get us papers to leave the country, but I’m ignoring all of that for the way it feels to be not only his stupid girl but his wife.

It’s something I never thought I’d be to him. I resigned to the fact we had something unconventional a long time ago.

Right from the get-go.

We stop in front of a painting of a naked woman. She’s voluptuous and splayed on a chaise lounge with fruits and vegetables surrounding her. Her face is wistful, and her posture is leisurely.

“She looks so at peace with the world, right?” I askNeo, turning to look up at where he’s examining the painting with his head cocked to the side.

“That’s what you see? I think she looks as if she’s been forced to pose.”

I turn back, looking at her from a different angle, with a more critical eye.

The subtle way the crook of her lips turns downward is telling, and Neo’s picking it up makes me realize how much of a predator he is.

And now he’s in a new hunting ground.

It doesn’t trickle fear through me, though.

My stomach warms as a wrinkle of adoration carves out a pit in the lining.

Neo drops my hand, turning towards me to lean down and brush his lips against my ear.

I wore my hair in a little updo today. I know he loves it, exposing me to his playful teeth that nip the shell of my ear.

“Would you pose for me, stupid girl?”

I bristle with a gasp as his tongue flicks into my ear, causing a shiver to encase my spine and grip firmly.

“Neo.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? You would spread this beautiful body out for me.”

“What would you do to me?”

“Paint you.”

I feel that Neo Wade likely doesn’t use a brush when he paints.

“How?” I ask him.

He looks around, assessing the room as he whispers, “With the sharpest blade imaginable—one so keen it would tear your flesh open before you even felt the pain. Then, I’d take my brush and use your lifeblood to varnishthis beguiling flesh. You’d be my canvas and my paint, stupid girl.”

My breathing is erratic, and my thighs are pressing together. My panties soak up the wetness his words coax as I turn my face into his.

The entire time he taunted me, he was watching the room, making sure I was the only one acutely aware of his massive cock pressing into my hip.

“You’re a tease, husband.”

---