Violet lets out a heavy sigh and reaches for the teacup on the coffee table.
Susanna keeps talking. “The fact that he didn’t even want a prenup though, girlfriend? That shows you something, doesn’t it? Shows that all the following, tracking, and spying on you put his mind at ease. And you said he took the cameras out.”
“He said he took them out of my job, but I don’t know if he’s watching us right now. There might still be cameras here.”
Violet’s eyes scan the room. So do Susanna’s.
“Well, Hot Stuff, Hi, if you’re watching. Bring home ice cream if you’ll be back soon. I like strawberry. Make sure it’s the one with the chunks of strawberries in it. What about you, Violet? Dill pickle? Extra chunky, too?”
Violet sticks her finger in her mouth in a mock-gagging impression and then they both laugh.
“Please don’t make me barf again. Those burritos were such a mistake.”
“Sorry about that. It sounded nasty. Baby doesn’t like burritos.”
I’m thinking I don’t like that she got sick again, but I’m also thinking that my wife is a genius. Using my tracking her, looking into her and acting distrustful as the catalyst of our problems would definitely be a viable argument for why she and I are on the outs and explanation enough for Susanna.
There’s a knock on my window.
Jessa. For fuck’s sake.
She stands there smiling.
What the fuck?
I set my phone face down on the passenger seat and hit the button to power the window down a few inches.
“Twice in one day. This is fate,” she greets then puffs on a cigarette.
“It’s not fate if you’re stalking me.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I’m waiting for a cab to take me to my hotel. Good timing. How about you drive me instead?”
“How ‘bout fuck off?”
“Aw, Pooky. You’re so serious these days. Just gimme a ride, will ya? What’s on your screen?”
“None of your business and no. Not interested.”
“Where’s Mrs. Pooky?”
“In bed waiting for me, I’d imagine,” I state.
And I feel a pang because she’s not waiting for me. She’s dreading me. But that’ll change. It has to.
“Wasn’t that her on your screen?” She sucks in a breath with a cringe. “Lettin’ herself go this soon after the wedding? So sorry, Pook.”
“Fuck off, Jess.” I roll my window back up, and peel out of there.
***
My phone rings as I’m leaving Law at just past midnight.
Alana calling.
I answer via the speaker.
“What’s up?”
“Sorry to call at this hour.”
“It’s all right. I’ve been touring locations. I’m about to head home though. What’s up?”
“Jessa Carson showed up an hour ago, she’s sloppy drunk and asking for you.”
“Like I said, I’m on my way home.”
What the fuck is her game? She just saw me.
“Asking loudly.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“So… have Tony get rid of her?”
“Yeah. Do that. Tell him to get her back to whatever hotel she’s staying at. Only because she’s Jag’s sister, otherwise I’d have said just turf her.”
“Will do. Bye.”
“Bye.”
***
Violet rolls into me when I climb in beside her and I soak it in like rays of sunshine after a long winter of darkness.
I wrap her up tight in my arms, kissing her forehead before tipping her jaw up so I can access her mouth.
As I do, she makes a sexy sound and her knee slides up my thigh to my groin and wakes my cock up.
“Oh,” she says and pulls away.
“Oh no you don’t. Get back here.” I pin her and put my mouth to her throat. I feel her nipples tighten and poke me in the chest. Yes.
My palm skates down her arm.
“Kill,” she mutters, sounding annoyed. She sounds annoyed but she’s got goosebumps on her arms and she’s arching her back.
“Don’t pull away. Let me hold you,” I request, my voice coming out gruff.
I try to ignore how tight her body has gone and run my hand back up to her shoulder, then down again, pausing at her waist, before I tug the back of her knee to shift her body and get her sprawling directly on top of me. My hand ascends up over the curve of her backside and then I take a handful of her nightgown and raise it to get underneath. She’s wearing panties tonight. Disappointing, though not surprising. I hook my fingers inside and slide them through wet. Nice. Her underwear feel bulky. And then I come across a sticky flap. It dawns why. She’s wearing a pad in her underwear.
I halt my journey.
“Any more bleeding?” I ask.
I feel her shake her head as her legs close tight.
“Any more getting sick?” I ask.
“After burritos,” she replies sleepily.
And I feel a pang of guilt, because I asked the question despite knowing what the answer would be.
“I wanna fuck you, Violet. I’ll be gentle. Can I fuck you?”
She tries to roll away. I tighten my grip on her so she can’t.