Page 50 of Coercion

She pauses, letting me look my fill, and then she turns as if she knows the exact game she’s playing, heading to the dining room, and leaving me to follow in her wake.

I don’t know who the fuck my wife has just transformed into, I don’t know where the shy, timid creature has gone and who this temptress is before me, but I know one thing; I am completely and utterly fucked.

I consider running, I consider retreating back to the townhouse, but I’ve never backed down before and I sure as hell am not starting now. No, whatever happens, wherever this ends, I’m here, I’m seeing it through.

Sidney has dinner already laid out. It’s like this entire evening has been planned. We sit and while I’m trying towrangle what little self-control I have left, she’s there, eating away, acting like this sudden change in her is completely normal.

I manage to force down a few mouthfuls but it’s hard to eat, hard to focus on anything when she’s sat there, looking like that.

After the meal is done, we head to the lounge and she saunters over to the bar in the corner and pours out two glasses like all of this is perfectly normal.

“Drink?” She says handing one to me.

“I thought you didn’t drink whiskey.” I say, surprised that out of everything in my cabinet, this is what she chose for herself.

She gives me a smile. “I like the idea of it.”

“Maybe you’ll get used to the taste.” I say before taking a sip.

She nods, taking a sip of her own and trying not to wince as the sharpness hits her throat.

“Come on,” I murmur, taking the glass. “Why not drink something you actually like?”

“I don’t know what I like.”

I raise an eyebrow at that. “You don’t drink?”

“I wasn’t allowed.” She says, pulling a face that suggests there’s more to it than just that.

“What about before, when your parents were still alive?” She was sixteen when all that shit went down, even with strict parents, most sixteen year olds would have learnt to sneak a drink here and there.

She lets out a laugh. “Jett used to. He used to steal bottles from my father’s study and we’d sit out, drinking it on the hill top while they were fighting.”

“Your parents fought?”

“Like cats and dogs.” She says, her face going so serious.

Internally, I wince, not meaning to turn this conversation into one of sadness, of bitterness. “Alright, let’s find out what you like then.”

Her eyes widen at my words. “What?”

I get up, going to the art deco bar in the corner, and start pulling out various bottles and glasses.

“What are you doing?” She says, coming up behind me.

I give her a smirk, making them up, mixing them, pouring them out like it’s her own taster board. “Give them a sip, see which ones you prefer.”

She eyes them with suspicion then turns that beautiful gaze onto me. “Is my husband trying to get me drunk?”

I let out a laugh, wrapping my arm around her waist, while raising the first glass to her lips. “Drink Ruby, tell me what you think.”

She takes a sip. Her lips pucker over the creamy liquid and her tongue darts out to lick it up. My eyes drop to stare at the movement. Christ, what I wouldn’t give to have that tongue wrapped around me.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

She nods. “I like it.” She breathes, her chest rising and falling in that tight little dress she has on.

“Try another.”