Page 128 of The Temptation
“What?”
“It looks good in here. Totally different. I remember when you bought this place … it was a shithole.”
“It wasn’t a shithole,” I grumble. “It was dated, is all.” I’ve lived in far worse places than this in my life.
“You’ve done a lot since the last time I was here.”
“That was five years ago,” I remind him.
Not that I blame him. I rarely invite people over. I like my space.
“Check the kitchen,” I say, nodding in that direction. “I’ll take the bedrooms.”
The second I enter my bedroom, I know she’s here. Not only are there neat little piles of clothes stacked on my bed, but my room smells like fucking coconuts.
I don’t even bother knocking as I stalk across the room and reach for the handle on the door of the en suite.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find when I enter, but it sure as hell wasn’t Lucia lying in my bathtub, buried under a goddamn mountain of bubbles.
“Are you right there?” I snap.
Her eyes fly open, startled, as she grabs the sides of the tub, pushing herself upright.
She stands, and my breath catches in my throat as I take her in. Water clings to her skin, illuminating it under the lights, as the bubbles slide down in slow, patchy trails.
“Romeo,” she breathes as she makes no attempt whatsoever to cover herself.
I stand there for a moment, caught in some kind of trance. I know I shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t look away. I’ve seen her scantily dressed more times than I can count, but never like this. Never completely naked.
When my cock starts to swell underneath this ridiculous hospital gown, I quickly turn around, giving her my back.
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath, scrubbing my hand down my face.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”
“Well, I could ask you the same question. When I found out you were missing, I couldn’t exactly lie there, could I? I had no idea where you were or who you were with.”
“Were you worried I was cheating on you, because I wasn’t. I’d never do that to you, Romeo. I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I thought you’d been fucking kidnapped again, Lucia,” I growl.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. Why are you here? And what are you doing in my bathtub?”
“I can’t exactly shower with stitches in my forehead,” she deadpans, and I swear this woman is going to give me hypertension.
“I mean, in my house.”
“I live here now.”
“The fuck you do. You can’t just move into somebody else’s house without their permission.”
“I don’t need permission. We’re married now, so technically what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”
A shooting pain radiates through my skull, and for a second, I think I’m having a stroke.
“I’d invite you to join me in here, but since you have stitches in your side, I don’t think that’s a wise idea. I’ll happily give you a sponge bath when I get out, though.”
