Page 105 of Devious Secrets

The bastard was right in front of me, and I let him walk away. He was acting weird, and other than his appearance at my wedding dinner, I haven’t seen him in weeks. I should have known something was up.

“Alexander.” Megan touches my arm. “Can we go home now? Please?”

I cup her face, wiping away the dried blood and dirt.

“Of course, baby.” I climb into the SUV beside her and tap Artem’s shoulder.

“Home.”

Megan’s asleep when I get home, so I’m quiet as I cross the bedroom to the bathroom. When the light shines on her face, I take another beat to watch her sleep.

Her hair’s pulled up into a ponytail, so I can see every inch of her face. I’ve never found so much peace by looking at anyone the way I do her.

Afraid to wake her, I step into the bathroom and shut the door. My muscles ache as I strip out of my clothes. Mostly my knuckles, but they’ll heal.

The fucking bastard won’t.

After turning on the hot water, I step beneath the stream, washing away the dried blood from my hair and skin. It swirls around my feet.

“Alexander?” Megan’s voice carries through the bathroom, and I open my eyes beneath the stream to find her standing just outside the glass doors of the shower.

Stepping away from the hot water, I open the door. She takes a look at the red-stained water on the floor and then to the pile of clothes at her feet.

“Ivan found him, then?” She toes the bloody shirt.

“He did.” I wipe my hand down my face, getting the water away from my eyes. “You were asleep. Did I wake you?”

“No.” She folds her arms over her stomach. She’s wearing one of my shirts again. It’s been three nights since I brought her home and she’s taken to sleeping in my clothes.

I don’t mind. Seeing her wearing my things fills me with peace.

A peace a man like me doesn’t deserve.

“Is he dead?” She looks up through dark eyelashes, like she’s not sure she really wants to know.

“He is.” I flex my hand, my knuckles are already swollen and bruised. It will look only worse in the morning.

She steps to the shower, picks up my hand, and brings it to her lips. Gently, she kisses each swollen knuckle.

“You killed him.” She steps into the shower with me, the water spraying her immediately, making the shirt stick to her skin.

“You’re not angry?” I brush my hand over her hair, partly to inspect the egg-sized bump. It’s down to the size of a marble now, and at least she doesn’t grimace when I graze it.

“He brought girls to that place,” she says. “I think he brought that girl there.”

“Sharon?” The seventeen-year-old who nearly died in my wife’s arms after saving her life. She had a hell of a battle that night, but she pulled through.

“Yeah. She called this morning. She’s home now. With her parents.”

“I know.” I wanted to be certain they knew the men involved with hurting their daughter had been taken care of. That not a single one of them was left with air in their lungs.

She takes another small step toward me, pushing me into the stream of hot water.

“Of course you do. You know everything.” She runs her hands over my shoulders, across my chest, and down my abdomen until she reaches my heavy cock.

It’s been hell not touching her these past few nights, but I needed to be sure she was all right. I needed to be sure my rage was fully contained so I wouldn’t hurt her in its stead.

Her hand wraps gently around my thick shaft and squeezes.

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