“We had no time to prepare, so this doesn’t feel real yet,” Demi explains.
“It’s scary.” Abby’s eyes glisten with compassion. “Your mom was fit and healthy. If she can have a heart attack just like that, then it could happen to any of us at any time.”
“Life is unpredictable,” Drew says. “All you can do is hope for the best.”
“I think she died of a broken heart,” I admit.
“I agree,” Lillian says. “She never got over Dad. She didn’t go on a single date after he died and trust me, she wasn’t short of offers.”
I gulp over the lump in my throat as pressure sits on my chest.
“It’s not your fault,” my sister adds, skillfully reading the expression on my face. “You were not responsible for Dad’s death, Charlie, just like you’re not responsible for Mom’s.”
“A small part of me will always feel responsible.” I’ve gone to a few therapy sessions and talked it over extensively with Demi over the years. The logical part of my brain knows Michael Hearst is responsible and even if I hadn’t hand-delivered my father on a silver platter he would’ve found another way to take him out, but the nonlogical part will never stop beating myself up for making all the wrong decisions. For choosing to believe a narcissistic psychopath over my own father. For letting him manipulate me into betraying the man who gave me life. I know I’ll die still feeling that regret. There are so many things I wish I’d done differently.
Demi circles her arms around my neck, kissing me softly. “Your sister is right. Don’t do this again,” she says in a low voice only I can hear.
“Why is your blouse buttoned up all wrong?” Emery blurts, and every head whips in her direction. Her cheeks stain red as she stares at my sister. Lifting her hands to her burning skin, she adds, “Shit, I didn’t mean to just blurt that. Sorry, Lillian.”
My gaze flits to my sister, and sure enough, her black silk blouse is buttoned all wrong. I arch a brow but don’t share my suspicions or question her on it. If my sister is grabbing happiness wherever she finds it, you won’t hear me complaining. Not after the shit show of a marriage she’s just gotten out of.
Anger surges through my veins like every time my thoughts turn to her ex-husband. He’s lucky he fled overseas, but it won’t protect him should I decide to handle him once and for all. The only reason I haven’t gone after that fucker is because Lil asked me not to.
Zayn catches my eye, grinning, but he says nothing as he drinks his beer even though the all-knowing glint in his eye tells me he’s aware too.
“Crap.” Lil darts to her feet, looking flustered. She sets her wineglass down on the table. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Chapter Six
Demi
I’m sitting at my dressing table in my red silk and lace nightie, applying moisturizer to my face, when Charlie strolls out of the bathroom wearing black silk pajama pants. “Do you know what’s going on with Lillian?” I ask, raking my gaze over his broad shoulders, muscled back, and toned ass. Damn, my husband isfinewith a capital F.
“I have an idea,” he replies while peeling the comforter back and sliding into bed.
“Care to share?” I recap the night cream and stand.
“Nope. Talking isnoton the agenda tonight.”
Liquid lust pools south, and I bite on my lip as my eyes flare with desire. “I love how your mind works,” I purr, climbing up the bed from the bottom.
“I love your tits.” Charlie ogles my chest as I crawl toward him. “And I love your pussy, and I love your ass.” He curls one finger. “Come here, wife.”
Clambering into his lap, I swivel my hips and release a moan when I feel his hard length rubbing against me.
“I need you.”
“You can have me.” I lean down and kiss him.
His fingers toy with the hem of my nightdress. “Take it off,” he commands in that deep authoritative voice he reserves for the bedroom. “Slowly.”
I do as his says because in here Charlie is firmly the boss, and I’m A-okay with that. No man has ever driven me wild with lust the way Charlie has. I trust him completely with my life, my body, and my pleasure.
He says nothing as I slowly reveal my body to him, just drinking me in in that wickedly intense way of his. Tossing the nightie to the floor, I rotate my hips on top of him and fondle my breasts while he looks.
“Show me how much you want me, slut.”
My pussy clenches like crazy, and my nipples harden in an instant as I lean back against his legs with my feet planted on either side of his shoulders. Using one hand to hold myself steady, I part my folds, letting my husband take his fill.
