Page 59 of Possession

He and I have a lot in common. Neither of us are here by choice. Instead of expressing that, I find the need to defend my husband. “I’m sure Boz has his reasons for wanting you to get your diploma. It can’t hurt, right?”

He looks over at me. There’s something smoldering behind his honey-brown eyes. It feels like anger laced with a hint of resentment. “You think the club is going to toss me my patch and give me the second half of my tat because I have a diploma? No way. They don’t give a flying fuck. If they knew I was wasting my time on this, I’d eat shit for the rest of my days.”

If there’s one thing I understand in life, it’s the need to fit in. And it wasn’t society or peer pressure that drilled that into my core like it was an integral piece of religion we needed to make it through in life.

It was my parents.

I pick up the review packet Boz left for me this morning and don’t look Rocco in the eyes when I add, “Then what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Let’s get back to it before I forget everything I just learned. At this point, we’re in this together. Maybe at the end, I’ll get another diploma. It’s always good to be a little extra in life.”

“You’re extra enough without the bonus diploma,” he mutters.

“Be careful how you talk to my wife.”

Rocco shifts to a sitting position, and I turn toward the deep voice. The same voice I’m becoming more and more in tune with, especially the closer it is.

Like when his lips touch me. That deep timbre feels good on my skin.

I haven’t seen him today. I’m not necessarily a light sleeper, but the man’s ability to steal in and out of our bedroom while I’m snoozing every single night and morning is weird. And I got up early this morning to be ready for my time with Rocco. When I came down for coffee, June told me he left early for meetings.

What kind of meetings could he possibly have at that time of day?

“Where have you been?” I ask with an underlying hint of irritation.

Boz’s intense gaze turns to me as he makes his way to the back of the sofa where I’m sitting. In one fluid motion, his hand slides into the back of my hair, and his lips land on mine.

This isn’t ahoney, I’m homepeck. This kiss is demanding, involves tongues, and causes me to stop breathing. Other chemical reactions he’s causing my body to experience definitely piss me off. When he finally lets me catch my breath, he reminds me what it’s like for that deep voice to rumble close to my skin. “You missed me. It’s good to know the honeymoon phase is still going strong.”

Our marriage gives new meaning to the termhoneymoon phase. I wonder if that means someone died this morning.

But him throwing that term out in front of Rocco when everyone around us assumes we’re banging like bunnies since that’s the impression Boz is determined to make with his public displays of affection, is…

Well, I’m not sure I’m ready to admit what it is.

I look up into his dark eyes and frown.

He drags a heavy thumb across my angry lower lip. “How is geometry?”

“Just as bad as it was when I was in high school,” I snap and try to pull my head back, but he won’t let go of me. “You didn’t answer me. Where were you this morning, and why do you leave so early every day?”

“I have a good deal of work that can’t come to the house, and I’m an early riser. If you want me to wake you before l leave from now on, I’ll be more than happy to do that.”

I don’t answer because I want him to do that. And not just for the reason he’s insinuating to everyone watching us.

Boz Torres has become a security blanket. He found me when I was kidnapped. He saved me from having to marry Nic Decker. And he stood up to my father, which I didn’t have the nerve to do.

Then he fed me tacos.

Tacos should not be the thing that nails my coffin shut when it comes to this man, but it might be. If he would’ve added warm churros to our drive-thru order, I’d be a goner.

Thank God he didn’t. I need some form of defense against this man.

But it really comes down to the fact I don’t like being in this house without him. Even though he claims to run the legitimate side of the Marino business, it all comes back to drugs in the end, and the Marino family owns this house. The same family who took me and forced me into a marriage against my will.

So far, Rocco is the only one who has pretended to like me, and he doesn’t want to be here either.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be gone this morning. We might need marriage counseling when it comes to communication,Boz.”

A low whistle sounds next to us.

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