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I hate how much I want her. My jaw clenches as I roll a condom on. Protection was already a tense subject between us before I saw those photos this morning.
I slam into her without warning, bottoming out on the first thrust. I grip her hips as I pound into her over and over again, trying to pretend she’s someone else. Just a warm body I’m using to get off.
I don’t touch her anywhere else besides her waist. My thrusts are selfish and primal and desperate. Right now, I’m chasing the chance to forget. The irony of the fact I’m using Scarlett to try to forget Scarlett doesn’t escape me. I could have gone out to a bar or a club and found a random woman—or two—to distract me from my train wreck of a marriage for the night. Instead, I came home and waited for her.
Scarlett moans as her inner muscles tighten around me. She’s close to coming. And I can’t forget it’s her I’m fucking. Her scent is familiar. So are the greedy little whimpers she’s making.
Annoyance quickens my movements. I thought this would make me feel better, treating her like the property she’s set against becoming. But this—screwing like she’s a woman I met for the first time tonight—isn’t impersonal. The sound of my name falling out of her mouth as she clenches around me is what sends me over the edge right after her. She’s still spasming when I pull out of her and stalk into the bathroom to get rid of the condom.
Scarlett is sprawled out on the bed when I walk back into the bedroom. I ignore her as I buckle my pants and pick my tie up off the floor.
She sits up, naked aside from her bra. “What the fuck, Crew?”
“What the fuckwhat, Scarlett?” My response is caustic, and I watch her flinch at my tone. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse right now, but that subtle movement managed to do so. I need to get out of here.
“If this was some role play shit, you can drop the act now.”
I chuckle darkly.
“You want me to pretend that was normal?”
“Do whatever you want,” I retort. “You always do anyway.”
She stands and walks over to me. Despite the fact I came minutes ago, my body reacts. My dick hasn’t gotten the memo she’s a liar and a cheater.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” I turn away.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Where?” she presses.
“None of your business.”
“Sure. I’m only yourwife.” That’s probably the worst thing she could say right now.
I laugh, and the dead sound of it scares me a little. “It’s awfully fucking convenient, when you’re my wife and when you’re not. When we’re an arrangement and when this is a marriage.”
“I told you I would try, Crew. I’mtrying.”
I shake my head and stalk toward the door.
“You said you’ll always want me,” she tells me. I still, hating how she’s bringing that up now. Marring that perfect memory with the anger and hurt swirling between us. “In Italy, everything you said—”
“Idowant you, Scarlett. That’s the fucking problem.”
“Guess I was right about you hating me. I did think it would take a little longer.” The words are harsh, but I don’t miss the sadness not far beneath. It cuts deep.
“We both know you’re an overachiever.”
I walk out of her bedroom without another word.
“You look terrible,” Asher tells me when I walk into the conference room for the monthly board meeting the following morning. “More trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I clip. I only left my office for meetings yesterday, going so far as to skip our usual lunch.
