Page 49 of Demise

I squint my eyes distastefully. “Good to talk to you,” I say.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” I reply. “Ready to get back to work. I was planning on making a trip down.”

“All right. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I am. I’ll take the jet,” I say.

“See you when you arrive,” he replies. “Safe flight.”

I hang up as I step inside the warmth of the house. I hear someone in the kitchen, so I walk down the hall to see Bexley in jeans and a sweater. Her hair hangs down her back, wavy, and when she turns, I see she’s put on a little makeup.

“Good morning.” She smiles, causing me to forget my thoughts. God, she’s a beautiful woman. How I wish to see this every new day, but I have this sick feeling in my stomach, like it’s going to be snatched away at any moment.

“You got up early,” she says.

I’m still unable to speak. She reaches for the cream in the fridge, bending over. Her ass looks edible in those jeans. She’s gaining her weight back, and I’m regaining my strength. I want to make love to her. I want to fuck her so badly, I can hardly contain it. I figure if we go slow, it won’t bother my stitches too much.

“You okay?” she asks, looking back at me. “You’re not talking.”

I lick my lips and clear my throat. “Yeah.” I’m aware of my raspy voice. She looks at me oddly.

“Where did you go?” she asks.

“To speak with Sweep.”

She nods. “About what you’ve got going on?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“It’s better if I don’t,” I reply. “Is that okay?”

“If you think it’s better that way, then that’s fine,” she says.

I narrow my eyes. “Who is this woman and where is Bexley Walker?”

She chuckles. “O’Brien, you mean. I haven’t been Walker in a long time.”

I nod. “Right.”O’Brien for the wrong reason.I don’t want to fight, so I don’t mention it.

I look at her hand as she stirs the cream into her coffee, noticing she isn’t wearing her wedding band any longer. I don’t mention that either. And I’m not mad about it.

“You ready to go?” I ask. “We’ve got the jet waiting.”

She lifts her brow. “Jet?” She smirks and my cock twitches. The fuck is wrong with me? I’m acting like a schoolboy or some shit. But when’s the last time I’ve seen her wear jeans?

“Yes. It’s quicker.”

“Okay,” she says. “How long are we staying?”

“Just a few days.”

She nods, thoughtfully. “Are we driving ourselves, or do you have that idiot driver taking us?”

Idiot driver? Who does she mean?

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