Page 94 of King

I’m terrified that everyone was right all along. That I should never have let her into my life again.

Lifting the blankets I quietly climb into bed, stretching my legs out I lie closer to her than I should. The heat from her skin reaches towards me and I continue to watch her, my cock growing harder, my tension rising.

When I can’t take it anymore I turn my back on her, aching to be with her, but refusing to let her manipulate me, even in sleep - she has power over me.

Closing my eyes I eventually drift off to sleep but my dreams are horrible.

Hands reach out to grab me in the dark, dragging me away from my sons, away from my home. Her lips curve into a smile, wicked and beautiful.

* * *

I wake up with a jolt.

It feels like I was asleep for a few minutes, my eyes are burning with tiredness, but sunshine is streaming in through the bedroom windows indicating that hours have slipped past.

Zina is no longer lying next to me, the sheets on her side are cold when I reach out to touch them. She’s been up for a while.

I groan and roll over, pressing my face into the pillow and wishing for a few more hours of rest. When I throw the blankets off and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my body is heavy with exhaustion.

“I made you some coffee.” She says, smiling gently as she walks towards me, carrying a tray. The white silk robe is tied around her waist, but it flares open when she walks, hinting at her beauty beneath the fabric.

“Thanks.” I grumble.

She puts the tray on my nightstand and sits down on the bed next to me. She shifts closer and hesitates for a second before she takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine. “Gio, I know things aren’t easy right now. I know you’re worried about - about everything.”

My eyes study her face, wishing I could kiss her.

“I’m here for you.” She sighs. “Whenever you need me. I’ll be at your side, Giovanni.”

I nod. What do I say? I can’t say anything.

My fingers tighten around hers unconsciously. My body wants her. Every cell of my being wants her - but my mind is not allowing it.

I pull my hand away and glance at her. She looks hurt. Rejected.

Zina stands up and smiles at me again. “I love you. Please don’t ever forget that.” She whispers, then leaves me to have my coffee.

It smells dark and rich and delicious.

And I can’t drink it.

I can’t drink it because I don’t trust her. How did things go so wrong in my life that when my own wife, the woman I love, brings me a cup of coffee in the morning - my first thought is that it might be poisoned?

I try to argue with myself, to tell myself I’m being pathetic - but it doesn’t change the suspicion.

And that makes me furious.

Anger fills my body and erupts from me like a volcano. I pick up the mug of coffee and fling it with all my strength.

It flies across the bedroom, spraying dark liquid as it spin, until it shatters against the wall next to the door.

My heart is racing, and my hands shake with the adrenalin coursing through me.

I can’t live like this.

I can’t hate her.

And I can’t love her.

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