Page 43 of Twisted Contract

“Yeah. Well, if my wife ever tells you that shit again, don’t fucking believe it because her ass doesn’t belong anywhere but at home. Her real fucking home.”

“Understood.”

“Have a good night.”

“I’m going to check in with the wife and then go back to the hospital.” I nod and then make my way into her apartment. I’ve had a copy of her key since the day after she was shot. There was no way I didn’t want information on her. Now, it’s time to remind her that this contract hasn’t gotten to its end date.

I slink into her apartment and hear the shower running. So help me God, now isn’t the time for my dick to be this hard. My brother is in the hospital fighting for his life, and she’s over there giving me hell.

I push open the bathroom door and stare at perfection. Damn, I have to bite my knuckles before I pounce on her. A low groan escapes her as she rubs her shoulders. My cock swells against my slacks, loving the sound from her pretty lips.

She spreads her legs and the loofa glides lower. “Couldn’t wait to wash me away.”

She lets out a gasp and turns to face me. “What are you doing in here? How did you get in here?”

“Who do you think had the windows repaired?”

“I appreciate it. I’ll have everything out of your home soon.” She continues to wash her body, turning away from me in the process, although that doesn’t do much good because I love seeing her from behind too. It’s like waving a red fucking flag in my face. I’m about to spear her ass.

“What the fuck makes you think any of this is over?” I snap.

“I told you I didn’t want this.”

“This contract is between the two of us, and I don’t recall agreeing to the dissolution. You still owe Nora and Jack a cake,” I say, trying to stop her from wanting a divorce.

“We don’t need to be married for me to make their cake. I’ve already agreed to do it, although I don’t know when they want to marry.” She rinses off and says, “You shouldn’t have left the hospital. It’s not like we have much to say. We’ve always said this was temporary.”

She turns off the water and then grabs a towel, wrapping it around her perfectly curved body. Her ample breasts hold up her towel, and my bones ache to toss her on the bathroom floor and take her like a savage, reminding her that she’s my damn wife and will always be.

“Why are you doing this today?”

“I’ve spoken to my father and have decided he doesn’t deserve to die. I might not like him, but I don’t want him dead.”

“Are you serious? Why are you so damn weak all of a sudden? I knew he would talk you into it. I thought you were strong enough, but he only had to speak sweet words to you, and you’d fall for it.”

“Please leave, Connor.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see you again. Trust me—if you use sweet words, they won’t work. I’m going to pray for your brother’s recovery and maybe for your soul because you need it. Now, leave me alone because I’m done.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m so damn serious.” She pulls the ring off her finger. “My father told me he hoped you’d be a better husband, someone who deserved me, but maybe the next guy will do the job right.”

“I fucking warned you about that. You’re my wife.”

“It was always temporary, Connor. Now leave.” I storm out of there before I fucking say something dumb. Or like even dumber than I already have.

I need a damn drink.

I drive home and as I reach the estate, I see the burned-down house. It’s not completely ruined, but I want to see what was there.

****

“Wake up, bro…Wake up…Connor.” I scrunch my eyes and flutter them open.

“What the hell? Did you really sleep in this pile of rubble all night?”

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