Page 44 of The Bloke

When the fuck did I start referring to him as my husband?

Chapter 19

Colby

When we left Fallout,I knew something had shifted between us. Fucking my wife in that alley felt… different. It wasn’t the same as all the times before. Something inside of me had changed. My feelings for her evolved into something more—and it scared the ever-living shit out of me….

I wasn’t able to get confirmation that the man I had stabbed in the alley was the one I was ordered to dispose of. So, for the past week, I had spent every night watching that back alley like a fucking hawk.

When I returned home just after three in the morning with no success, I immediately checked on Sienna. She was always fast asleep, as peaceful as ever, in the center of our bed.

Even though I had the overwhelming desire to crawl into bed and wrap myself around her, I refrained from doing so. Instead,I opted to sleep in the living room, stretched out on the black leather sectional.

She never said a word to me, not even to ask about the man from that night, so I let her be. My wife wanted nothing but to hate me and for me to leave her alone, and so I did. All while wrestling with my sanity and desire, which continued to burn hotter and brighter for her.

The one thought that threatened to swallow me whole was how she might have seen me now. Did she see me as some murderous fucking monster that enjoyed spilling the blood of others? She sure as fuck didn’t act that way when she begged me to fuck her right after I killed the piece of shit, but that could have been the situation itself.

She was so wet, though, practically drenched in her arousal.

I had always initiated our sex, but that night was the first time she begged me for it, and at the end of the night, I was left confused about both my feelings and hers.

Where did we go from here? Would she call the police and tell them what I had done? Did she fear me for what I was capable of? Was this the moment where she realized that she could never love me, a man so quick to violence?

It was the same routine day after day.

She left for work early in the morning without so much as waking me.

I would wake up, shower, and change before heading to the Ultrapool by nine, and throughout the day, I would check her whereabouts through my tracking app.

She was always at her Pilates studio until late at night or the penthouse, nowhere else.

After the evening show, I would return to the back alley of Fallout, sit there until close, and then return home.

Every night, while waiting for my target to finally make their appearance, I thought about her. Sienna may have started as justa woman I had the primal urge to claim, but I started developing deeper feelings for her as the days went on.

The thought of loving her terrified me because if she could never love me back… I couldn’t even fathom the alternative.

I resisted the temptation to approach her, wanting my wife to come to me when she was ready, but the longer I waited, the harder it became to keep my distance.

When my shift at the bar ended early, and I noticed she was still at her studio across town, I gave in to my desire and deep-seated need for her.

Letting myself into her studio, I wandered the empty space searching for her. She wasn’t working out on one of the reformers like the last time I was here, and the lights were all off. I caught a glimpse of light from under the door leading to the private dance room and assumed she was hiding from me there.

I peeked through the crack in the door as I opened it and watched as she danced across the room. Her toned body and wardrobe told me she had a dancing background, so it was no surprise that she was mesmerizing when in her element.

I wanted to know what she was dancing to, the kind of music she loved to listen to.

I wanted to know everything about my wife.

As she spun around the room, I stepped inside, wrapping my arms around her as she crashed into me, catching her off guard.

Her stormy blue-grey eyes stared up into mine, and I knew right then that it was the right decision. I should have confronted her days ago instead of waiting as long as I did.

“What’s wrong, love?” I asked, noticing that she had tears staining her cheeks.

I raised my hand to run a knuckle down its path. Her skin was so soft and smooth.

“No—nothing.” She stammered. “What are you doing here?”

---