Page 86 of Endgame
“Everett, I’m telling the truth,” she insists, saying what I already know.
“Prove it.” It takes everything in me to feign boredom. I hate her. I crave her. My entire body vibrates around her. “Let me see you.”
She opens her mouth to talk back. Snaps it shut.
Aurora’s hair swishes as she shakes her head.
I raise an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. Oh, and,” she adds, “taking my pills took another minute.”
Cute. She thinks she’s taunting me by letting me know I don’t have a chance in hell of getting her pregnant.
Well, well. Technically, she’s not wrong.
She did takeapill.
A placebo.
She’ll find out about it when I decide it’s time. Hopefully, when it’s too late.
Until then, I play the part. Pretend to be furious. I clamp my mouth shut and wrap her hair in my fist again.
I bend toward my whimpering wife, my face hovering over hers. “Did I give you permission to take your pills?”
“No.”
“Did I ask whether you took your pills or not?” I shake her lightly.
“N-no.” Aurora’s hands come off the floor. Her balance is off with how carelessly I hold her.
She braces her hands on my knees, fingers flexing over my jeans.
The touch reaches through my clothes, lighting my skin on fire.
“What did I ask then?”
“To be on time. To let you see me.” She smells of mint; her hot breath tickles my lips. Leaning into her filthy mouth and biting her wounded lip would be the easiest thing. “And my ass. Oops, did I forget to tell you that I removed my nail polish too? And I shaved myself too.”
“You were waxed yesterday.” Without waiting for her answer, I lift one of her arms, looking at her armpit.
I’m treating her worse than I ever treated anyone, and she senses it.
Her lips twist, her hate wrapping around her like vines.
“I did it for me.” Aurora isn’t fighting me when I pull her closer by her hair. “I wanted to, so I did.”
I don’t justify her with an answer. I humiliate her by dipping my face into her armpit.
Her skin smells of the deodorant I bought her. Citrusy. Expensive.
She smells better.
What a fucking turn-on, being this close to her. Looking at her breath hitching. Her nipples strain against her dress, since a bra wasn’t a part of the outfit I left for her.
“Brat.” I breathe her in. “Let’s see how well you did.”
I dart my tongue out, lapping it over her armpit.
