My heart stumbles in my chest as I narrow my eyes and watch mynot-clumsy wife frantically mop the puddle. As she tucks loose tendrils of hair behind her ear, and jostles the table when she hits it with her thighs.
Calmly—like a fuckin’ robot—I pick up my napkin. “Here…”
“Thanks.” She drops hers onto her plate with a splat and takes mine. “Probably fancy wood under the tablecloth, huh? Do you think the wine will mark it permanently?”
“Who fuckin’ cares?” Felix drags Christabelle closer and drapes her legs over his lap. “Tim the Second paid for it, and none of us liked that prick, anyway.” He lays a smug kiss to the end of her nose. “Also, I know I said fuck, but I forgot the new rule, and I remembered I don’t know other words.”
“Something about impulse control.” I settle back in my chair, my stomach in knots as I consider… wonder… “And making your own rules.”
Minka pushes her chair back and scoots out from between it and the table, her movements jittery and her eyesanywherebut on mine. “I’ll ask Mary for more cloths. I’ll be back in a sec.”
MINKA
The next morning, Archer sits on the end of our bed, folded at the hips, and tying his laces. His shoulders bulge with muscle larger than usual, like maybe he was working out while I slept. His eyes, such a beautiful, deep green, follow as I pass from the bathroom to our closet in nothing but a towel.
He looks me up and down with a slow appreciation, but with a heavier, darker feel to his study.
Curious, I drop my towel and step into a pair of panties. “What?”
“Where are your stitches?”
Gulping, I glance down at my legs and the spot on my knee where a Band-Aid used to be… until I peeled it off in the shower. “Uh…”
“You took them out?” He pushes off the bed and wanders across our room, stopping in the closet doorway and resting his arm against the frame. Suspicion is like a living, breathing beast pulsing between us. His stare, a sad mix of disappointment and irritation. “I feel like we discussed this.”
“They were ready to go.” I whip a pair of black slacks from the hanger and snap them open, stabbing my feet into the legs and pulling the fabric up. “They kept catching on my clothes, which hurt more than if I just didn’t have them.”
He watches me like a predator in the wild. Hungry. Furious. And like he has no intention of letting me survive our encounter.
Quickly, I turn andselect a blouse.
“Even when the doctor specifically told you to wait nine days?” He growls. “And even though he said you weren’t allowed to take them out yourself? Even whenIsaid you couldn’t take them out yourself?”
I startle at his warm breath bathing the back of my neck. His hand on my hip.
“Quite defiant this week, aren’t you, Doctor Mayet?”
“My knee is fine.” I slip out of his grip and drag a sleeveless, high-neck blouse over my head. “I’m not limping. Not bleeding.” Rather than risk my predator’s captive hands again, I snatch up a pair of shoes and a black leather belt, then I skim past him and back into the safety of our bedroom.
Joke’s on me. Because he follows, and his eyes are no less vigilant.
I set my shoes on the rug by the couches and slip the end of the belt through the loops on my pants. “You need to not turn this into a whole thing, Archer. They had to go, so I did it in a way I knew was safe, sanitary—”Ish. “And didn’t cost a cent. It was smart, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you.” He meanders two feet closer. Three feet. His walk is a swagger, his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans. “You know I don’t like it when you break the rules, don’t you, Minnnka? They exist for a reason. They exist for your safety.”
“I was safe!” I stab the end of my belt through the buckle and fasten it around my hips, then I sit on the very edge of a chair and dig my feet into my shoes. “I’m always safe, Archer. I got the job done and moved on with my life. You’d have a fair point if I were bleeding, or if my wound reopened because I took them out too soon. But that’s not what happened. I’m fine.”
“If you believed that, you’d have been upfront about it.” He stops just two feet from where I sit and stares, his gaze heating the side of my face. His jaw, tense enough, I swear I feel it, too. “If you had believed you were doing the right thing, you’d have discussed it with me.Beforeyou broke the rules.”
“I feel like you’re overreacting a little.” I finish my second shoe and shove to my feet, then I lay my hands on his chest and kiss the underside of his jaw. “I’ve gotta go to work.”
“So early?” He slips his finger into the loop of my pants. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“We don’t live two blocks from my office anymore, which means I lose time to my commute. Add in that Aubree’s still on leave, and Cordoza’s interference yesterday, and I have more than enough work to keep me busy for the next eight hours.”
“It surprises me how freely you’re accepting Aubree’s time off.” He drags me closer and stares down into my eyes, his palms stretching easily around my hips. “You and her are codependent. You might not like to admit it, but it’s true.”
“She’s on her honeymoon week.” I attempt to step back. To turn away. To doanythingbut melt under his intense scrutiny. “She has a right to not be harassed for a single week.”
