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She’s right.
Nodding, I acquiesce, holding my palms up in surrender. “You’re right, I—”
“And if I did want to talk about it, what would I even say?” She shoves to her feet, the theater seat bouncing closed as her weight leaves it. Pulling at the hem of her short, lacy black dress, she walks over to me, gaze red hot even in the dull lighting.
I don’t have to see her eyes to know they’re burning; I can feel them, licking down my chest, setting my soul ablaze, dousing me in kerosene as she steps back to admire the flames.
I would happily spend the rest of my life on fire if it meant getting to keep her.
“Would you want me to tell you how it wrecked me, hearing that you had a relationship with my mother?” Elena asks, her voice just a smidge louder than necessary, and I can’t help wondering if it’s because she knows who’s in the box beside us. If she wants them to hear. “Is that something that would make you happy, Kal? Knowing you finally ruined me?”
The last syllable cracks, right as she stops in front of me, her toes pressing against the tip of my black Oxfords. Every muscle in my chest constricts, making breathing goddamn impossible while she’s standing here, baring her soul, accusing me of being the reason it’s bloody and bruised and broken beyond repair.
My hands twitch at my sides as she steps into me, pushing me flush with the wall, jabbing her index finger into the middle of my chest. I want to haul her into my arms, rain apologies down with my mouth and hope somehow they make up for things.
I try to reach for her, but she juts her chin sharply, hands circling my wrists, pinning them back. I could easily overpower her, but the longer I stare at her, the longer I stand here absorbing the misery rolling off her in waves, the more I realize I don’t want to.
This is what I asked for.
“Answer the question,” she snaps, moving so her hips brush mine, the hem of her dress shifting slightly up with the motion.
Gritting my teeth, unsure if she’s trying to be seductive on purpose or if she just can’t fucking help herself, I exhale harshly through my nose. “No, Elena, that doesn’t make me feel good.”
Releasing one of my hands, she scores her fingernails down the front of my pants; I hiss when she drags them across my dick, which stiffens under her touch.
“Careful, little one. I’m starting to get the wrong idea here.”
She tilts her face up, the heat from before still glowing in those golden eyes, rage and lust mixing together and warring for dominance. Without saying another word, she cups me through my pants, squeezing hard, and my free hand naturally flies up, fisting in the back of her hair.
Yanking her head back, I curl my body so I’m looming over her, waiting for a grin to grace her pretty features.
It never does, and after a moment, I see this for what it is.
She’s not interested in having a conversation; the hurt and anger are still too fresh, flashing on repeat in her mind like an out-of-control fireworks display, exploding until nothing’s left but the charred remains.
Still, her body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as her brain, reaching out to me like it just can’t help itself.
And if that’s how I have to get her to come back to me, so fucking be it.
Backing up until her legs connect with the drink holder on one theater seat, I grip the roots of her hair so tight, it pulls a startled gasp from her lips. Her hand comes up, latching on to my forearm like she’s about to try and tear me away, but instead, she clamps down, clawing at me through my suit.
“Are we done talking?” she rasps, reaching behind with her other hand to steady herself on the seat.
“That depends; are you going to say anything I don’t already know?” Her nostrils flare, and I chuckle darkly, bending to skim my nose over hers. “When I said I wanted to talk, I didn’t mean I wanted you to goad me into a reaction. But if you’re not ready for more, I’ll give. Whatever you need from me right now, little one, I’ll hand it over.”
Her eyes stay on mine, but her breathing scatters, making my dick throb against her stomach. Trailing my other hand slowly up her side, memorizing the gentle curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, I stop at her throat, curling my fingers around it.
“You want me to fuck you until you can’t remember how shitty I made you feel? Want me to shove my cock into you, make you come over and over, until you’re begging me to stop?” I glance out at the still-packed auditorium, hear the low chatter from her family’s box, wondering how much of this they can hear.
A wicked grin splices across my face, the malice in it palpable, and I dip down, grazing my mouth over her ear. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now? Where anyone in the city might hear, or even see, the way you come apart for me?”
Throat bobbing beneath my grip, she licks her lips, the gold in her eyes illuminating like a bitch in heat.
It’s a single nod that comes next, barely perceptible with me holding her neck in place, but I catch it all the same. My heart pushes past my rib cage, lurching into my esophagus, cutting off my air supply as I imagine what I’m about to do to her.
Raking my gaze down her body, I swallow, my cock weeping precum just at the thought of people bearing witness to the reclaiming of my wife.
Letting go of her hair, I snake my hand down the front of her dress, hiking the skirt to her hips in one sharp tug; she gasps as the cool air brushes against her bare pussy, making her shiver.
