Heather frowned. As soon as he hung the phone up she spoke. “What’s going on?”
“My mother is being my mother. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
He was trying to make light of it. Trying not to let her see the dark mess that his soul was in.
“I have some favorites. But only if you like them.”
“No. This is… You can choose.”
He followed her through the store, with one goal in mind. To keep everything together. He had to keep everything together. This was what he had proposed. He and Heather would be friends. During the day. They would not give in to the toxic side of their relationship. They wouldn’t surrender to it.
He repeated that. As she chose furniture and made arrangements to have it delivered. As they went and bought blankets. Baby clothes. As she handed him a tiny white onesie that seemed impossibly small. Didn’t seem like it could possibly contain a real human. Much less one that he was going to have to take care of. But he was desperate. He was desperate for it to be night. Because he needed her. He needed to exhaust the demons inside of him. He needed to do something.
He needed to make sure that she never saw this. He needed to make sure that he was never his own mother. That he didn’t vent his toxicity onto other people.
In the bedroom. That was where he could release this.
It was the only safe place.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She could sensethe change in him. He was pretending that nothing was wrong, and it was baffling her. He had experienced a near personality switch after they had found out that the baby was going to be a boy, and then his mother had called him, and he had refused to give her any details about it. But he was obviously upset. But also not flying to Vienna.
She had the chef at the estate make them a celebratory meal. She was happy they were having a boy. She would’ve been happy with anything, of course, but it was the way that it felt more real now. The way that she felt like she could actually picture their child.
A little boy like Romeo.
It made her heart ache. She loved them both so much. She loved this vision of their future. But the distance between herself and her husband felt…awful.
That was the thing that scared her the most.
But he was becoming more withdrawn, and the later that it got, the more pronounced that became. He practically didn’t speak during their meal. And when they were finished they began to walk toward the bedroom they were sharing, and as soon as the door closed, he kissed her. Hard and punishing. This was Romeo as he had been months ago. The man who had taken her like he was possessed.
This was how he had been on their wedding night. Something was wrong. This wasn’t gentle.
This was something else. Possessive, intense. Angry.
“Romeo,” she said.
“Heather,” he responded, wrapping her hair around his hand and pulling her head back, kissing her neck, her throat, down to her collarbone.
She gasped. Because even though she felt like there was something wrong, she was a slave to this. A slave to him. To the intensity of the desire between them. It was too good.
He looked up at her, something haunted in his dark eyes, and then he grabbed the edges of her blouse and tore it open, exposing her breasts. She hadn’t worn a bra today, because everything was ill fitting and she hadn’t had a chance to get something more comfortable. And judging by the light in his eyes, he appreciated that.
“That’s what I thought. I was staring at your breasts, trying to see if you had anything underneath. I thought that I saw your nipples get tight anytime I got near you. You want me,” he said, desperation carving an edge into his voice.
“Of course I do. I’ve always wanted you.”
“It’s a sickness. For you just like it is for me.”
She gripped his face, and stared into his eyes. “It’s not a sickness. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He growled, like a wounded beast, and pressed his hand between her shoulder blades, arching her back toward him and lowering his head so that he could suck a nipple deep into his mouth. It was nearly violent, the edge to his desire gloriously unhinged. And she was caught between the desire to soften it and to push them further. To reassure him, or to give him a place where he could have whatever he needed.
She realized it wasn’t one or the other. It was like they had been trying to make it one or the other. All this time.
Their days were soft, their nights filled with passion. But she wanted to get back to their honeymoon. Where every moment had been both.
