Page 58 of Bloody Lace

I linger against her for one more moment, savoring the feeling of her wrapped around my fingers and her breathing against my ear, and then I pull back, stepping away from her as I reach for the bikini bottoms I tossed onto the pool deck. “Here,” I murmur, and Evelyn grabs them out of my hand, her neck flushed. I don’t know if it’s from her orgasm, or from embarrassment in the aftermath.

She re-knots the strings, tugging them back on, and in one smooth movement she pushes herself up out of the tub, water pouring from her perfect body as she steps up onto the deck. Before I can look at her for very long, she grabs a towel, wrapping it around herself as she shoves her feet back into her shoes.

“It’s cold,” she says, without looking at me. And then she grabs her clothes and heads for the stairs.

—

In the morning,I’m once again down in my office before Evelyn wakes up. She was in bed by the time I came up last night, pretending to be asleep, as if I didn’t intentionally give her the time to do exactly that before I came to bed, too. Somehow, despite the intimacy we’d just shared, the gulf between us in the bed felt even wider. And it kept me up, late into the night.

I’ve never once, not in my entire life, fucked a woman and wonderedwhat does this mean?The idea is preposterous. It’s nevermeantanything. But I caught that phrase running throughmy head last night, and I couldn’t claw it loose no matter how hard I tried.

What did it mean that she let me do those things to her last night?

Logically, it should mean nothing. That she was horny, and she accepted that oral sex was a boundary we could cross, since it carried no risks. No possibility of consequences that could tie her to me tighter than even wedding vows can. I wanted her, and she wanted me, and we did what we could to alleviate that.

So why does it feel like more?

I laugh bitterly to myself as I look at the same contract for what feels like the thousandth time. I wouldn’t know whatmorefelt like if it slapped me in the face. To think that I would is ludicrous. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never even been close. I haven’t evenlikedmost of the women I’ve fucked. My dick liked them, and that was enough. And my parents certainly weren’t any example of what love might look like.

Not only do I not know what it feels like, or looks like, I’m not capable of giving it to her. I’ve spent my entire life shutting myself off from emotion, from love, from caring about anyone enough that losing them might hurt me. Because the consequence of doing otherwise is giving my enemies the power to do exactly that.

The only person I ever gave a shit about was my brother. And he fell in love, and now he’s dead. That’s as clear a lesson as I could ever possibly need as to why I should remain on the path I’m on, and not let myself get tied up in feelings for a woman who plans to leave me.

Who looked at me just last night, and said exactly that.

I try to bury myself in work until I hear the sounds of Evelyn moving around in the main room, Gus’ voice as she gets ready to take the dog out, the normal, domestic sounds of the refrigerator opening and closing and her puttering around the kitchen.

Finally, when I start to get too hungry to hide in my office any longer, I emerge, just in time to see her putting on her boots by the door. She’s dressed as if she’s going out, in dark, fitted jeans and a soft-looking cranberry-colored sweater, her earrings the same drop pearl ones that she wore for our wedding. Her hair is up in a messy bun, small pieces of it trailing along the sides of her face as she tugs on her boot, and my fingers curl into my palms as I fight the urge to go up to her and brush them out of her face.

“Where are you going?”

Evelyn looks up abruptly, her gaze catching mine. It’s carefully shuttered, as if she doesn’t want me to know what she’s thinking. “Gus is going with me,” she says dismissively, reaching for her other boot.

“That’s not what I asked.” The irritation in my voice at her evasion must be evident, because she pauses, looking up at me again.

“I’m going out to lunch.”

“With Dahlia?”

She hesitates for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, I know it’s something I won’t like. I know she’s thinking about what I said about lying to me, and weighing the consequences of whatever it is that she’s planning to do.

I cross the space between us in two quick strides, and she jerks back, but from where she’s standing there’s nowhere for her to go. She ends up with her back against the door, me looming over her, a setup so familiar that it makes my cock instantly twitch.

“Who are you going to lunch with?” The thought occurs to me that it could be a man, and jealousy rips through me like a hot knife. I don’t truthfully think Evelyn would do that, but my desire for her has made me irrational.

“Do I need to tell you every fucking move I make?” She glares up at me, and I’m all the more certain that she’s evading the answer on purpose.

“No. But when it’s clear that you’re doing something you don’t want me to know about, I’m damn well going to find out.”

She narrows her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

“You’re my wife. Of course it’s my business.”

“Quit that old-fashioned shit!” Evelyn snaps at me, her lips pressed together and her eyes blazing, and I know this is about more than just keeping her lunch partner to herself. “I can see who I want. Get lunch with who I want. Stop hounding me about every goddamn thing!”

“Your reaction is telling me that I should absolutelynotstop hounding you.” I narrow my eyes right back at her. “You want to see old-fashioned? Tell me,l’vitsa, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder, take you upstairs and tie you to the bed until you answer me.”

“Fuck off.” Evelyn tries to squirm around me, and I slap my hands against the door on either side of her, caging her in.

---