Page 98 of Desperate Desires

“I’m not mad about that,” I told him, needing to be honest.

“You’re not?”

“No. I mean, he was doing what you said, but he was clearly doing it wrong. I’ve been around protective men before. I mean Micky’s whole family is like that. But none of them would allow a security guard to touch their wives.”

“So, you’re not mad about that?”

“No.”

And I wasn’t. Seriously. Fuck that guy for grabbing me like that.

“Then why are you trying to leave me?”

“What? I wasn’t leaving you.”

“I assumed he was stopping you from leaving?—”

“Um, no. He was stopping me from going shopping. And not for nothing, but I didn’t expect him to be there. You didn’t tell me about having a bodyguard in front of the house, and that is not okay.”

“That fucking jerk. Shit. No, you’re right. I should have told you. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I fucked up.”

“Ono, I can keep me safe. I just want us to be honest with each other,” I said, allowing him to pull me away from the front door.

“Okay. I can do that. Let me do that.”

Emotions were still running high, but I wasn’t ready for this time with him to be over.

He took my coat once again and led me to the sofa. I watched him sit down and bit my lip when he pulled me onto his lap.

He breathed deep, like he was trying to get as much as my scent into his nostrils as possible.

I sighed against him, liking how small I felt, how precious, cradled in the warm safety of my husband’s embrace.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just absorbing one another, and for the first time all day, I felt settled.

“Okay, in the spirit of honesty, there are some things we need to talk about,” he said, lifting my face, so I was looking at him.

“Okay,” I replied, nodding and showing him I was ready for this.

No, I had no idea what he was about to say.

But I wanted this marriage to be real. I wanted it to work, and to do that we needed to start treating each other as partners.

Partners listened.

They helped.

They didn’t act like brats or barbarians. I laughed, thinking that was exactly how we both just acted, but that was over now.

I wanted to listen, to be a real wife to him.

“Talk to me,” I whispered, holding his cheeks and pressing my forehead to his.

He was so damn handsome, and he felt so good beneath my fingertips. My heart was beating double time.

The air felt heavy. Like even the atmosphere knew this was important.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I brought this to your door,” he told me, and I could see his apology and his anger shining in his deep blue eyes.

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