Page 44 of Prey for You

God, I was so fucking jealous it stole my breath.

There were women walking this earth whotrustedhim. Who knew he was good. Who would rely on him to save them if they ever needed it. Women who understood him before I did. Who probably still wanted him—why wouldn’t they?

And there I was, running off half-cocked, tempting him into danger and…

When the lawyers said it was done and Sam turned to look at me I couldn’t even meet his eyes. Ihadto get past this. Had to put it aside. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew it wasn’t his fault those women hadfeelingsfor him. But that was way worse than sex. And I couldn’t stop feeling it. My skin itched. My lungs didn’t want to inflate.

Jeremy leaned over my shoulder, but I just turned and whispered to him, “I have to go.” Then I shoved out of that chair and fled the room.

For the first time since all this started, Iwantedto talk to Gerald. He’d have some perspective, I was sure. He could help me turn it around in my mind—

But then it hit me: How could I tell Gerald that I was jealous of Sam having sex with other women? He didn’t know we were married. Hecouldn’tknow.

I stumbled going down the stairs outside, but caught myself and ran to the car.

I still didn’t have answers—or peace—when I got home.

15. Look at Me

~ SAM ~

The weeks following our honeymoon were a roller coaster on too many levels.

Bridget’s mood was as changeable as the weather.

The legal shit was always feast or famine. They’d leave me sitting in my house, rotting, for days or even weeks with nothing—then suddenly, there wasn’t enough time to do everything that was needed. Until there was another lull.

My work was patchy too. Some of the guys in the prison still wanted to see me and talk to me. Some of the members of the church still trusted me. Others didn’t. And it was impossible to pick which side of the debate any individual would take.

By the time Thanksgiving drew close, I was emotionally exhausted, horny as fuck, and more worried about Bridget than anything else.

We’d been physically apart for weeks, and even though she seemed to settle down once the depositions were done, she was still on edge.

Then again, so was I.

The whole situation was just a clusterfuck.

Still, we kept in almost hourly contact through the burner phones, and video-called most nights.

Which was why, as the holidays grew closer, I noticed her changing.

She’d looked haunted since the depositions. But by the middle of November, she washollow.

The Thursday a week before Thanksgiving, she was late for our call, which made me nervous.

When I answered the call, she was at her desk, which seemed weird. Usually at night she was in bed, or on the couch.

“What are you doing, babe?” My blood ran cold as the possibilities started running through my head.

On the dark web.

Putting herself out there as bait again.

Planning to meet other guys who wouldn’t give two shits about her.

Drinking?

“Nothing.” She shook her head and picked up something from the side of her desk that I couldn’t see on the phone and popped it in her mouth, crunching it before she answered.

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