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What had I been thinking? I should have been grateful that he showed up when he did. Instead, I was so damn hostile. Honest to God, I don’t understand myself. Especially when I’m drunk.
Here is this guy that loves me. He gives me so much. And when he’s in the middle of probably the most difficult time in his business life, I throw a cataclysmic tantrum because he won’t stop talking to the SEC and fuck me. Really? Am I so shallow and spoiled?
I extricated myself from the bed, shuffling to the bathroom with a glance at the clock over the desk in the corner noting it was eight-thirty. Adam is up every day at five which only made me more nervous knowing he’s had hours to roll over the night before.
I caught sight of my reflection, barely recognizing the girl in the mirror. Her makeup was smeared under her eyes, hair plastered to her face, wearing an old ARMY t-shirt and matching gray sweatpants.
“Aren’t you a treat?” I said to my reflection.
A shower was mandatory, even before I went to find out if I still had a boyfriend and a place to live.
The steam and water helped clear the cobwebs, but it did nothing to assuage the guilt and humiliation. Granted, I didn’t actually cheat, but I did break Adam’s trust. And to someone like him, trust and loyalty are the heart and soul of a relationship.
Sure, he was an alpha-male, grunty, dominant caveman sometimes. I wasn’t wrong about that. But all that is what drew me to him like a moth to a flame.
I mean, what are the odds? This stunning guy I drooled over in the park walks into where I work, his eyes cutting through the crowd to settle on me like heat-seeking missiles.
He loved as deep as he fucked too. There was no doubt in my mind that he loved me like he had never loved anyone before. If he had to run into a burning building to save me and he knew would die in the process, he wouldn’t hesitate. My life trumped his if it came down to it and I knew I would always be safe with him.
But, it was so much more than just the physical strength, the sexy bad-boy-fear-nothing attitude. He was fucking smart. Wicked, autodidact kind of smart and everyone underestimated him. Writing him off as a meathead and he blew me away with the paradox of emotions that he brought out in me.
When I saw the fire in his eyes yesterday at Ron’s, I wasn’t afraid for myself. I knew Adam would never, ever strike me in anger.
He wears his power like a badge of honor, not a Wild West gunslinger. He’s a quiet warrior, one of the few men left that have a singleness of purpose and don’t give a shiny shit what anyone else thinks of them.
“Damn it,” I whispered, turning off the water, knowing it was time to face the music.
If he wanted me out, I would go. But, for a girl that hadn’t darkened the door of a church in over a decade, I was sure doing some hard praying.
I toweled off, did a quick comb through on my hair, ran some Vaseline over my lips and slipped on a short cotton spaghetti strap sundress I knew Adam liked from the guestroom closet. It was a little too baby-doll girly for me, but today was definitely not about me.
Dressed and halfway presentable, I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door, stepping two doors down toward our primary suite where I hoped I would find some way to fix this mess.
When I opened the door he was waiting. The muscles in his jaw clenching and releasing, over and over.
Veins crisscrossed his forehead like thick vines. He was dressed in a loose pair of black slacks and gray t-shirt, hair combed and in place the stubble of his beard a day longer than usual telling me he was a bit off his game.
I froze. Adam’s body blocked out most of the light streaming in the bedroom window as he stood a few feet from the edge of our bed. The only noise inside was the soft whooshing of the ceiling fan overhead and my heart pounding in my chest.
“So.” His voice was calm as I choked by the nausea that twisted its way up my throat. “We need to have a little chat.”
“I know. I’m sorry—”
He waved a hand and narrowed his eyes, cutting me off.
“It’s not your turn to talk. It’s mine. You did a lot of fucking talking last night if you can remember.” He slipped the tips of his fingers into his perfectly fitted black dress slacks, his pectoral muscles flexing under the t-shirt. “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re gonna make a choice. Today. Not tomorrow, not in an hour, right fucking now. So, listen carefully, ‘cause I’m only going to explain myself once.”
