Page 48 of The Bad Husband

His eyes look like melted gemstones, his expression a mix of deep-seated danger, inescapable lust, and perhaps a need for a nap.

A drop of aftershave glistens at the corner of his mouth, while a soft smile barely moves his lips.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as my eyes slide over his tattooed, muscular torso.

His suit pants are on, and his belt is barely unbuckled.

His shirt sits on the vanity.

I lift my gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing. Where’s your wife?” I murmur, pulling the lapels of my robe over my chest.

His eyes leave a trail of desire across my skin.

I feel like running away to escape him, although I’ve got nowhere to hide.

Without taking his eyes away from me, he flicks his head toward the other side of the house.

“She’s sleeping.”

I part my lips in surprise, then swallow hard in panic.

“Is she okay?” I ask, befuddled.

Three hours ago, the woman rocked a red dress and looked like a woman on a mission. She wanted to end up in this man’s arms tonight, and now she’s asleep?

I find it hard to believe.

He steps away from me, stops in front of the mirror, and checks his face.

“Are you under the impression that I drugged her or something?”

He seems amused, while I don’t know in which direction I should move.

Eventually, I follow him into the bathroom.

The shirt lying on the vanity is clean and pressed. It looks like he’s on his way out.

He shifts his eyes to me before setting himself in motion and moving past me. He reaches for the door, closes it behind me, and swiftly locks it.

My legs melt under me.

“Did you?” I murmur to show him that I’m not afraid of him.

Am I afraid of him? I should be, yet I’m not. I’m afraid of other things that he could do to me.

He shakes his head in response.

That could mean anything, even a lie.

“Wasn’t it a good party?”

He studies his cheeks in the mirror for a few good moments, so his answer arrives late.

“Huh?” he pushes out.

He has no idea what I’m talking about.