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And then he blinked.
And it was gone.
He growled that he needed me. He held me tightly. Showed no restraint.
I didn’t have a moment to breathe and ask him what was going on. Didn’t have the presence of mind to do anything but give myself to him so he could bend, twist, and bruise me as he wished.
He spent every minute, every scrap of energy pounding whatever was bothering him out of his body and into mine.
The vast, skittering frenzy burned my doubts to the ground.
Raw. Urgent. Animalistic.
How could I bring up the fact that I felt lonely?
That I wasn’t sure where we stood?
My heart, my mind, my very soul tumbled into him. As he stroked. Thrust. Bent me over. I could only focus on the way he was loving on my body. On the sparks that exploded in my chest and set fireworks off in my head.
We went all night until dawn.
After, Hansley fell asleep and I passed out on top of his chest.
This morning, when I opened my eyes, he was gone.
There was a note on the nightstand.
So I grabbed it.
Read it.
This black card is yours. I called Tierra and Elizabeth to help you spend as much as you can. Don’t argue.
It had a heart underneath it along with Hansley’s name and signature.
It should have felt romantic. After all, how many women get to take their husband’s black card with the free rein to spend it all on themselves?
But it didn’t.
The gesture felt… cold.
And heartless.
For the fourth day in a row, I found a note lying next to me instead of my husband.
The first day, Hansley’s note was a simple heart.
On the second, it was a summary of our wedding vows.
On the third day, he bought me a necklace.
Today, the card.
I know I’m supposed to be impressed.
But I’m not.
I’m not a gold-digger. I don’t chase after money. My parents taught me how to take care of myself and I was doing just fine before Hansley came along.
