Page 96 of The Bad Husband

There are no hard feelings when I say goodbye to all of them and leave.

I reach the house a little later.

I use my remote to open the gate and walk toward the house, pondering yet again what Damon had said to me before he left.

Why would a man say that to a woman? That his place might be mine one day?

Even though I know it’s a way to keep me interested in him, curious about him, and thinking about him, a tiny part of me asks, what if he meant it?

What if what he said to me that night at the club when he begged me to stay wasn’t him acting either?

What if what seems to be serious is serious?

That’s the problem.

If these things are what they appear to be… If they’re real… I’m in a more dangerous situation than I thought I was.

I’m also in danger of not understanding who this man truly is and how he can affect my life.

It’s easier to say he’s tricked me.

It feels safer.

A trick has a short shelf life, while a real desire to consume someone can be lethal, metaphorically speaking.

I enter the house and make a beeline for the refrigerator.

I’m hot from all the time I’ve spent outside. From all the drinks I’ve had. From all the walking.

Since I don’t have to wear a uniform at work, I dress whichever way I like.

My short rayon dress with a scoop neckline, a flare skirt, and buttons at the front is perfect for this weather.

Even though the fabric feels cool against my skin, I’m still burning inside.

I gulp down half of the cold water, drops trickling down my chin and chest.

The pool is too warm for me right now.

I sort of slow down, still drinking water, still enjoying the fresh sensation and the wet trails cooling my skin, when a muted sound drifts over from the entrance, and a man’s arm wraps around me from behind.

His other hand slides over my mouth as I scream deliriously and drop my water to the floor.

He laughs in the back of my hair while I drown in panic.

Frantically, I move his hand away from my mouth.

“Damon? For fuck’s sake. How can you do that to me?”

“Who did you think it was?” he says, running his hand straight through my neckline, ripping off several buttons, making my top fall open, exposing my chest.

He kneads a boob with passion, tilting his hips against my lower back so I can feel his hard-on.

“No one. But still. I thought no one was in the house. Didn’t you say you’d be gone?”

“I said that…” he murmurs, distracted, dragging his hand down, then up my skirt, and then right inside my panties.

He moves two fingers over my clit, and I soften like a week-old banana, and lean back against him while he strokes my pussy.