Page 15 of Liar's Heart
And just like that, the flames are doused.
Both of us are still breathless, panting and wide-eyed as our common sense battles the hunger raging between us. It takes several heartbeats, but when I regain the ability to speak, I nod and say, “You're right. We shouldn't.”
His eyes slowly soften back to their usual state, his body finally beginning to work through the adrenaline killing Jonah no doubt overwhelmed his system with. That's all this was. Him just working through an adrenaline high. It didn't mean anything.
Our first kiss didn't mean anything.
Not to him, and definitely not to me.
“We should go,” he says, his voice still rough.
I nod and bend down to pick our masks up off the floor. Holding the wolf mask out to Ender, he shakes his head and says, “I'll take us out the back. No one will see us.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek with a hand that is far too gentle for how hard it was pulling my hair mere moments ago, far too steady for how much mine are still shaking. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the top of my head, affectionate and sweet. That same gentle hand takes my own before leading us out of the room, then out of the house entirely.
The drive home is quiet, neither of us speaking until the car is safely parked in our garage. Ender turns the engine off and sits there for a moment before he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I shouldn't have done that,” he says, the regretin his voice cutting through me like a blade. “I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I was worked up over… a conversation I had, and I should have waited until I calmed down before I found you. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”
I get out of the car and don’t bother to wait for him. Entering the house, I head for our bedroom and claim the bathroom before he can catch up to me. It takes me longer than usual to go through my nightly routine, and when I emerge, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket abandoned and shirt cuffs undone, shoes already off and tucked into their spot inside the closet. We swap places, and by the time he’s crawling into bed next to me, I’ve turned off my light and am feigning sleep. The mattress dips and shifts as he settles in, then his light clicks off, and eventually, his breathing evens out into the soft cadence of sleep.
Never did I think being attracted to my husband would be an issue. If anything, it should make things easier to not have to fake interest in him. But I never could have predicted the overwhelming chemistry between us and how quickly we could lose ourselves to passion. Or how relieved I was when I sensed him enter that ballroom. How easy it was to talk to him while I did his cuff links. This is more than just physical attraction. He moves something deep within me, something I thought long since calcified. Something that died a long time ago because of him.
He’s dangerous.
It’s dangerous to forget who he is. What he’s done. It’s dangerous to indulge the connection forming between us or let myself feel what stirs when he’s near. Too dangerous. And wrong.
My own damnation.
Hellfire’s never burned so sweetly before.
A quick glanceat the door confirms it’s still locked, just like it’s been the last four times I’ve checked. Still, I can’t stop double- and triple-checking it.
It’s one thing to stalk your wife. It’s another to get caught doing it.
And while most of our employees are really good about not coming to my office without an appointment or at least confirmation that I can meet with them, Ro and Logan will just walk in unless I lock them out. Hell, that doesn’t even stop Ro half the time. But it will give me enough warning to shut everything down before he can finish picking the lock.
Pulling up the minimized screen, I scroll through the feed until I find her. Merrick’s in her office, sitting at her desk and working on what looks like invoices when I zoom in on her computer screen. Same as she has been since she got there a little before nine this morning. Jules isn't there with her, so I turn up the volume and listen to the ambient noise of my wife working. Keyboard keys clacking, mouse clicks, her periodic sighs. Sometimes, she'll put music on low, but today, it’s quiet.
Some days, I sit here and work alongside her, pretendingwe’re in the same room. Like once I finish this email, I’ll ask if she wants a refill on her coffee or what she’d like to do for lunch. Maybe she’ll look up at me with her soft smile and ask if I want to go out or order in today. Then we’ll go back and forth on whether Heaton’s or Tine and Ladle has the better lunch menu before I let her pick the restaurant because, ultimately, the only thing I care about is sitting across from her and watching her the whole meal. Today, I just watch, too despondent for daydreams.
It’s been two and a half weeks since the party. Eighteen days since I kissed my wife. Seventeen since Emma Dewitt was discharged from the hospital. Sixteen since I started coming back into the office to work. Sixteen since I went back to watching Merrick through security cameras like I used to when she lived in Reddington. At least this time, I can use my own system and don’t have to hack into someone else’s.
Merrick’s been icing me out since I stopped our kiss from going any further. She’s still polite, sometimes borderline friendly, but all warmth has been leached out of our interactions. I thought the polite thing to do was to give her space and let her come to me when she was ready. Now I’m starting to think the only way I’m going to get anywhere with her is to make it so she can’t ignore me.
But how? How do I push her into action without her shutting me out even harder?
I’m still contemplating my next move when someone knocks on my door. Then the doorknob rattles. I shut down the feed and turn off the speakers just as I hear the faint snick of the lock disengaging. The door swings open, and Roman walks in, singing, “Please stop jerking off now.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “It’s weird you want to catch me jerking off. You know that, right?”
“Want’s a strong word,” Roman says. “Maybe more like… hope. It’s like a game.”
He’s been like this since we were roommates in prepschool. It's way more about catching me off guard than it is about any voyeurism kink he might have. I accepted a long time ago that this is just his sense of humor.
Ro flops into one of the chairs opposite my desk and sets a few files on the corner. Kicking his feet out in front of him, he asks, “You go over the proposal for Dunway yet?”
“Yeah. I kicked it back to Myers already with my notes. No major changes. I think they’ll need to upgrade their server sooner rather than later, so I asked him to add that info.”
“Cool. What’s Merrick up to?”
