“Trustme?”
I go still, searching her face, but all I see is my baby.
Fuck, I loved that she enjoyed herself earlier. She gets on the bed and grabs the blindfold. I grab her wrist.
“What do you plan to do with that?”
She chews her bottom lip for a second, then flattens the blindfold, lifting it to my eyes. She slowly ties it around my head. Then she guides me to the bed and makes me lie in the middle. She ties my left wrist. Then my right. Then my ankles.
I test them once to test how well she tied it. She's better at knots than I gave her credit for. It’s snug.
I hear her pick up the candle from the nightstand.
She doesn’t say anything before she pours it. Heat lands on my abs, and I stay very still, not reacting to the sensation. I've taken a lot worse, and I've never once let anyone see it on my face.
She pours more.
All over my chest, my arms, and the edge of my jaw.
She giggles.
I relax at the sound of her enjoying herself. I love her laugh. Her smile is outrageous; it could light up the whole city, but her laugh is probably one of my favorite sounds.
More than anything, I’m happy to be alive right now to hear it one more time.
She continues back down my body, pouring wax on wax now.
"This wasn't the deal, babe," I say.
She puts the candle on the nightstand, and then I feel her breath on my lower stomach. Then her mouth. She moves her tongue against my skin, sucking at a certain place.
Fuck.
If I had known she had this in her these past two years, I would have had a lot more fun with her.
But I can still smell him on her, and it makes me sick to my stomach that she was just fucking him right before I showed up.
I want her to say his name.
That's what I'm waiting for. Underneath all of this — the candle and the rope and her mouth on my stomach — I'm waiting for her to give me the name. Not because I don't know who the fuck it is. But because I want it from her. I want to hear her say it, so that when I handle it, she'll know it was never about anger. It was always about her. Everything is always about her.
When I take care of him, she'll know that what I did was for love.
She needs to understand that.
She needs to say his fucking name.
“Adela.”
Her mouth stops.
I wait for her hands to start peeling the wax the way I peeled it from her, but nothing happens.
“Babe?”
I try to reach for the blindfold, but I can’t.
I lift my head and listen for her footsteps.
