Page 10 of Hades

How ironic that I was getting what I wanted. A few hours ago, I had hoped that Jenny would spend the night with me, instead of her date. But now that she was choosing to sleep over…it was all wrong.

“I’ll take the couch then,” I said, moving toward the living room.

“Simon, that’s—” Jenny reached out and touched my arm. Her fingertips pressed into the bare skin of my tattooed forearm like a hot brand. “That’s not necessary.”

As much as it pained me to do it, I removed her hand from my arm. Then I turned to face Jenny.

“What do you suggest instead? Sharing a bed?”

I stepped closer, dipping my head to whisper in her ear.

“Do you really expect me to sleep next to my wife when I can smell another man’s expensive cologne on her? When I know that he kissed you? Touched you? Because that sounds like you’re being a fucking tease, honey. And I will get my scent all over you.”

Jenny sucked in a sharp breath. She glared at me and shoved me in the chest. I caught her wrist with a firm grip. She twisted and squirmed but I didn’t let go.

“Don’t be an asshole, Simon. You’re not suited to it.”

I brought her hand to my mouth. Jenny curled her fingers into a fist, fighting against me. I kissed the tight band of her knuckles, holding eye contact.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it, mi amor. I’ve seen the way you cream all over my cock after accusing me of being an asshole. It turns you on. And that is exactly why I’m taking the couch.”

I released her wrist and adjusted her wrap, pulling it up over her shoulders to cover her cleavage.

“You have to stop being jealous, Simon,” Jenny said tartly. “You’re just making life more difficult for yourself.”

I took a step back, looking her over. God, she was as pretty as a picture. I really fucked up by losing her. When she inevitably remarried…it was going to break me.

“I’ll stop being jealous when I’m dead and buried,” I said. “Now go to bed and get some sleep, sweetheart.”

But Jenny was persistent, trailing after me into the living room. I dropped onto the couch with a sigh, kicking off my boots. She stood over me with one hand on her hip.

“You wouldn’t be so bitter about all this if you just started dating again like I keep telling you to,” she said. “What about those girls hanging around your clubhouse?”

I snorted.

“Not interested. I’ve had my fill of club bunnies.”

“But—”

“Would it make you feel better if I came home with lipstick on my collar?” I cut in. “Do you want to smell another woman’s perfume on my clothes? Do you want her nail marks down my back? Is that what you’re looking for here, Jenny? Would it be easier to hate me then?”

She clamped her mouth shut, her lips pursed like she’d just sucked on a lemon.

“No,” I said, my voice raw. “I didn’t think so.”

Jenny frowned and sank down onto the couch next to me. The plump curve of her hip pressed against my thigh. And my traitorous cock twitched. I wished she was climbing into my lap right now, straddling me. I wished she would lift her skirts and tell me that I was the only man for her.

But that wasn’t happening.

“I don’t hate you,” Jenny said softly. “I think that’s pretty obvious since we had our son after our divorce.”

I exhaled a quiet, dry laugh.

“We were fucking like rabbits there for a while.”

“The stress relief was immensely appreciated,” Jenny replied, with the hint of a smile in her voice. She fiddled with the fringe on her wrap, twisting it between her fingers.

I held out my hand, palm up. An open invitation for comfort if she needed it. Jenny looked at my waiting hand for a moment. Then she placed her palm in mine.