Page 73 of When Sinners Hate
I look back at her in the kitchen and watch her making her way over for more coffee like everything’s alright. It might be as far as fucking is concerned, but the rest is debatable. She holds my cup up, as if gesturing to make me one, so I nod in reply. “No.”
“How far did that asshole get?”
“He didn’t. Other than playing with her ability to breathe and slapping her around.”
There’s quiet on the end of the phone. I get it, and not only do I understand his frustration with that information, but I also feel his own self-loathing at the thought. We’ve both done the same. We’ve pushed and broken women, making sure they feel what it’s like to defy us. I might not care that much about that, but him – the one with the heart and hope under his ferocity? He does.
“Well, it’s been dealt with. Chance called me and let me know it was all done. You need me to do anything else?”
“Yes. Find out where Miguel Ortega is for the next few days.”
“Why?”
“Because he caused it. I’m not a ray of fucking sunshine about that fact. Send me the details.”
More silence. This time his end of the line is filled with as much goddamn revenge as I’m thinking about. Maybe he doesn’t think about Lexi like I’m starting to, but she’s an extension of me now as far as he’s concerned, just like Wren is to me, and that means he’s as pissed with the thought as I am. “And cover things for me for a few days. I need some time. Call me if there are any problems.”
“Done.”
He ends the call before I say anything else. Not that I need to. He’ll be all over this business like the asshole he is, and no one will get a minute’s peace now I’ve given him control of it.
I stare at the pool some more, potentially thinking about getting in it, or maybe going out with her to take her mind off everything, and then I choose to turn around and go back through the house. “Have you cried yet?”
She looks up at me with two coffee cups in her hands. “What?”
“In the shower last night. Did you cry? More than a stray tear or two.”
Her chin lifts and she hardens everything about herself. “No.” She shakes her head and puts the coffees down. “I don’t do that about things like this.”
“Yeah, you do now.” I walk over and scoop her to me. “Everyone cries. Me included. We need to get that out of you. Up you get.”
“What?”
“Jump.”
She pulls back, putting space between us. “Where? What are you talking about? Unless you missed it, we just did sexy on the table and now you're talking crying? There’s that damn whiplash again. And when the hell have you cried?”
“Stop talking and jump your ass up until you’re wrapped around me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why?”
“Jesus, woman. Get the fuck up here.”
My tone must counter her growing aggravation because she bounces and springs up, sliding her legs around my waist. “Fine. Now what?”
I swing her left and right for a while, letting the sound of the music keep her in that calm she’s trying for, for the time being. She’s nowhere near calm. She’s hoping for it, and some orgasms might have helped, but if I know anything about women it’s that no matter their hatred or fears or concerns, tears will always come. They glare using them. They shout using them. They bleed using them. We’re getting them out of my wife whether she likes it or not.
“You feel safe on me, Lexi?”
She nods on my shoulder, crawling herself in tighter until she’s got her lips by my neck. “I'm starting to.”
“That's because you are, darlin’. Always will be now. But listen, you're gonna need to learn to bring tears at me every time you need to. You understand? Just me.” Another nod and sherests her chin on my shoulder. “I don't care how they come. You just let them come.”
Maybe I’ll make them come if I need to.
CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR
LEXI