“That’s yours, specially,” he said.
I looked up. “How would you know?”
“I picked it for you,” he said, like that was normal.
I stared at him. “You had mugs chosen for me?”
He didn’t deny it. He just poured coffee like he hadn’t heard my question. Instead, cream and sugar appeared before me. My eyes narrowed.
“You don’t know how I take it.”
“You put two sugars in your tea on the farm,” he said.
The soft, melting feeling in my chest made me mad. He remembered that? I looked down fast and tried to sound unimpressed. “Maybe I changed.”
He leaned back against the counter. “Did you?” he asked.
I put one sugar in the cup… then tried to sneak to add another. He smiled. I felt his satisfaction and wanted to knock the whole mug over out of spite.
“You irritating,” I told him.
“You cute.”
My head snapped up. “Don’t call me that.”
He nodded once. “Okay.”
Just like that. No argument. It threw me off worse than a fight would have.
He turned back to the stove and started back cooking. I sat there looking stupid and feeling worse. No, I didn’t choose this marriage, but I was still his wife. And once upon a time, my heart had chosen him. Maybe I could?—
You chose him and he disappeared. The devil on my left shoulder suddenly overrode the angel on my right. I watched as Targen plated the food. Tortillas, eggs, potatoes, sausage, peppers, onions, it all smelled so good. He set a plate down in front of me.
Breakfast tacos.
My stomach gave the smallest, most traitorous growl. Another one of his smug little smiles. He stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest.
“Eat,” he said.
“Stop saying it like that,” I snapped, even though I could hear the teasing note in his voice.
“Okay.”
“You know what? I don’t even want it right now,” I lied petulantly, pushing the plate away.
He rounded the island and was in my face so fast, I barely had time to blink. Part of me realized that I should be scared, but I wasn’t. What I felt was excitement mixed with something I didn’t wanna name. It didn’t help that he smelled and looked sogood this morning. He cupped my face gently, but his gray eyes were stormy.
“I’ve been trying to deal with your attitude, because I know a lot of shit unfolded that you don’t know the background to and in circumstances that neither of us would’ve picked. But the little petty shit? It’s about to stop. You can feel how you wanna feel, but you don’t get to cut off your nose to spite your face,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I get that you used to being in charge, but you not in charge of me,” I spat.
“You want options,milaya? Fine. You get two choices for what I can do to you right now.”
The air between us was tense, thick… and hot. Charged with something electric, a current I felt all through me. I bit my bottom lip as I waited on him to lay out these choices. He dragged his thumb below it, tugging until I released it. And then unbelievably, he slid his thumb between my lips before bringing his mouth to the shell of my ear.
“I can feed you or fuck you, Theory. Either way ends with this attitude gone,” he rasped, his breath warm against me. “And don’t pretend that I’d have to force you,malyshka. Look how you already reacting now. Bet that tight little pussy already wet for me.”
How was I reacting? I was proud of myself that I had managed not to moan or whimper out loud. Then, he moved his thumb slightly, and I realized I’d been unconsciously sucking on it. Horrified, I pushed his hand away.
