Her voice held irritation, but I knew her too well—that tone meant fear.
I immediately headed toward the sound.
At the end of the hallway, near the bathroom, a burly drunk was blocking Natalie. He swayed, mumbling filth, one hand reaching for her arm.
"Don't be cold, sweetheart... sang so pretty... have another drink with me... I know what girls like you want..."
Natalie kept backing up, pressed against the cold tile wall, forcing composure. "Last time, get lost."
"Hey, feisty little—" The drunk grinned, his thick hand reaching for her face.
Just before his fingers touched her cheek—
I seized his wrist and twisted hard in the opposite direction!
"Ahhh!" His scream echoed down the hallway.
The drunk stumbled forward from the force. Without even looking at his disgusting face, I drove my knee into his gut. His scream changed pitch as bile mixed with booze spewed out.
"You... you fucking..." The drunk lay there shaking, gasping in pain, still trying to get up.
"Still here?" I raised my foot toward his chest, voice low. "I guarantee, one more step and I'll break your ribs."
The drunk scrambled up and crawled away from Natalie, slipping once in his panic, fumbling back to his feet, disappearing without looking back.
The hallway suddenly went quiet. I looked at my hand that had touched him, felt sicker than eating day-old food.
I closed my eyes, pushing down the nausea, then turned to Natalie.
She was still against the wall, watching me. Just a flicker of surprise on her face. Nothing else.
"Are you hurt?" My voice came out rough as I scanned her body.
That damn black top had a low neckline, sweat still on her collarbone. With her quick breathing, her chest rose and fell.
"No." She straightened, tugging her hem down.
Then she looked up at me with those blue eyes.
The light was too dim. Usually, in light this dim, Natalie and I were having sex.
Of course, I couldn't have sex with her here.
Even though I missed her body desperately, missed her moans.
Even though I was hard enough to explode.
"Richard, did you sign the divorce papers?"
Time stopped for a second.
That question killed everything sexual in my head instantly.
Rage surged in, drowning what little reason I had left.
I stepped forward, grabbed Natalie's shoulders, and slammed her back against the wall. Her bones felt delicate, shoulders thin, her skin's warmth bleeding through the fabric.
"I never said I'd sign." I leaned in close, nose nearly touching hers, each word grinding through my teeth with a viciousness that felt foreign even to me. "Natalie, you're my wife. Who gave you permission to run to this trash hole, wear these cheap clothes, smile for a bunch of men, and flirt with other guys?"
