Yes.
He’d been a terror to the people in my neighborhood growing up. Passing out drugs to anyone who wanted them, let that be man, woman, or child. Young or old. Everyone got something from him if they showed interest.
Some even that didn’t.
And that wasn’t including the stranglehold he had on the members of my community, scaring them into doing his bidding whether they wanted to or not.
I’d spent years trying to extricate him from my life. Just as I’d pry one claw loose, he’d hook another one in somewhere else.
That somewhere else being my ex-wife.
She unthreaded one hand from my hair and cupped my jaw over my beard. “Not a good person.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Have you stolen from the elderly?”
I frowned. “No. Why would I?”
“Have you beaten any dogs?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, never.”
“Killed any cats?”
One small shake of my head.
“Hurt any women and small children?”
Again with the single shake of my head.
“Don’t tell me that one thing,” she whispered. “Keep that part of you separate if you feel like you need to. But give me everything else.”
She wasn’t real.
There was no woman alive who wouldn’t demand answers.
At least, I thought that.
The universe proved me wrong when she widened her thighs and my lower half sank even deeper into the curve of her hips.
That’s about the time when all my hesitations left me. I couldn’t focus on anything but the taste of her. The smell of her. The feel of her.
Her hands seemed to be everywhere, too. Exploring my neck and chest. The dips at my hips. The wide span of my shoulder blades.
There wasn’t a single place that her hand hadn’t touched as I explored her mouth. Then her neck. The valley between her breasts.
She paused in touching me to rip her nightgown off over her head.
That damn nightgown.
It’d been taunting me for a week straight.
We’d slept in the same bed since we’d found out about her sister.
It’d been the best kind of torture seeing her walking to bed wearing the white satin nightgown that covered her from neck to ankles.
But what it was concealing…
