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39
Karma
It’s six days to the Christmas party, and I am almost done with the projects I have undertaken. My dress is done. So is the other outfit I have been working on. My morning sickness is also almost gone. And if I have to stay another day cooped up in here, I am going to go stark, raving mad. Argh! Andy saunters over to me. He winds his way around my legs and purrs loudly. I scoop him up, pet him, but he glances the other way. He’s one demanding cat. As demanding as the other man in my life… That is, he used to be demanding...and mean…and growly… And now? He’s just grouchy.
Clearly, the lack of sex is getting to him. Since our tryst on the terrace, I have not seen him at all. If he does sleep at night… It, clearly, isn’t in the bed next to me, as his side of the bed remains untouched when I awake in the mornings. He hasn’t been in the room, as far as I can tell. Which means he is sleeping somewhere else. Likely, in his office atVenom. Is he also sleepingwithsomeone else there? But he said that he wasn't fucking anyone else. That he wouldn’t fuck anyone else. He wouldn't lie to me, would he? I tighten my fingers and Andy yowls in protest.
He flicks out his baby claws and I yelp as he scratches me. I release him and he jumps down to the floor, then walks away with his tail high in the air. I glance down at the streak of blood across the back of my palm. Shit! I walk over to the bathroom, and hold my hand under the running water at the sink. Then raise my hand to check the scratch. Blood begins to drip out again. Oh, damn. I reach for a tissue when, "What are you doing?" His voice interrupts me.
I yelp, lose my grip on the tissue which flutters to the ground. "You scared me," I mumble.
He prowls into the bathroom, wearing his well-fitted suit—all black, of course. With a tie that’s blue enough to bring out the blue in his eyes. His jaw is clean-shaven, and when he leans in close, his dark, spicy scent envelops me. My nipples pebble and my belly flutters as he extends his hand. I draw in a breath, freeze, and he switches off the tap.
Jerk.
His lips curl in a smirk, then he glances down at the still-bleeding scratch on the back of my hand. His eyebrows draw down. "You’re hurt?"
"It’s only a scratch," I reply, "Andy… I may have scared him."
"If I had known that the cat was going to wound you—"
"Seriously, he barely broke the skin," I glare about, spot the tissue on the floor and go to pick it up.
"Leave it," he orders as he snatches up a fresh one. Then circles my wrist with his fingers and presses the tissue to the scratch. He presses down and I hiss out a breath. "Did that hurt?" He scowls at me.
"No," I lie.
He shoots me a glance and I redden, "Just a little, but it’s nothing."
"Let me be the judge of that." He grabs another tissue, holds it over the previous one, then brings my other hand down on it, before lifting both to my chest. "Hold it there, above your heart, and apply pressure," he commands.
Before I can protest, he turns away. He reaches up to pull open a door near the sink, then pulls out a first-aid kit. He pulls out cotton balls, antiseptic, and bandages, lays them out near the sink, then turns to me. He throws away the bloodied tissues, then proceeds to dab the antiseptic onto the scratch. I wince and he blows on it to cool down the injured skin. Then he places a band-aid over it. "There," he steps back, " all done."
I glance down at the neatly bandaged wound. "Thanks," I murmur as he puts away the first-aid kit.
"Where have you been all these days?" I burst out when he straightens. "I haven’t seen you at all."
"Did you miss me?" He smirks, and a ripple of heat runs down my spine. Man, that smirk of his… It’s sooo hot. Even when he’s being a jerk, it turns me on. Clearly, I am fighting a losing battle against his charm.
"Of course, not." I toss my head, "It’s just colder at night when you are not in bed with me."
His grin widens, "So, I am just a substitute for an electric blanket, huh?"
"Yep," I nod, "that’s all you are. A warm body to keep my toes from getting cold at night."
"And here I thought you had other uses for me."
"If you mean as a sperm donor, well, that ship has already sailed."
I scowl, and he chuckles. "You always have been able to match me word for word, wife."
Wife.Hell, I still can’t get used to him calling me that. And he’s been so tender to me, taking care of me. Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Oh, hell, and now these stupid pregnancy hormones have my insides all twisted up.
I turn my head away, but he catches my chin. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft, "what’s this all about?"
"Nothing." I sniffle, "Everything. It all just seems too much."
"The party?" He frowns, "We can call it off."
