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“Samira, look at me,” I say, my tone stern.
Her head snaps in my direction. “You want my attention, Declan?” Her voice is rough, thick with agitation. She steps forward, inching closer and closer. “No. You just want the gun back so you can hurt me.”
I shake my head. “No, doll. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. Let me in. Show me what’s hurting you.”
“Everythinghurts, Declan.”
Same. Fucking. Same.
The desperation in her tone, the hurt etched into the lines of her face, make me want to reach out and hold her. Never let her go until she realizes I’ll do anything to stop the pain for her.
“Let me make you feel better,” I say.
She straddles my lap, the gun long forgotten on the dining table. “I just want to forget.” Her fingers slide into my hair, and she scratches at my scalp. “He’s everywhere. But he’s nowhere. And I think that hurts the most.”
I wince at how hard she tugs my hair. Tears burn the back of my eyes. Not from physical pain, but from the emotional. I know that feeling that burns deep inside of me. I hate how much I still wish Cara were here with me, how passing certain places makes my heart stop while I grieve for her.
Some days I can eat a bagel without any thoughts of her, but other days, memories of her hit me hard. Like the one time she plopped cream cheese on my face and I chased her around the house.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m listening. Tell me.”
“Later,” she says, her hips grinding against me. “Right now, we forget them.”
“No one is due home?” I ask, sinking my teeth into the center of her neck.
“My daughter won’t be home until later. We’re alone.”
Disappointment settles in my chest. So, whoever she’s talking about isn’t him. She really is fucking married. I’m a selfish prick though, because right now I don’t give a fuck. Right now, she’s mine. Right now, I’m hers.
“And you’re about to fuck the home invader. Jesus Christ, Samira. If your husband comes in here and blows my brains out while my cock is inside of you, I will come back and haunt you.”
She snorts. “Relax. It’s just us.”
I press my forehead to hers, inhaling a shaky breath, and then blow it out. When I open my eyes to peer at her, those wild eyes are gone. She stares back at me with pure desire. Everything about this is so wrong. I’d never cheat, and I feel like technically she cheated on me when she left out this detail. It’s wrong, this is wrong, and I should stop it. But when she stands up to slide out of her jeans, I don’t stop her.
When she drops her lacey panties onto the ground, I practically salivate. And when she comes back to my lap and presses the warmth of her center into the hardness of mine, I can’t help the feral sound I make. I move to yank off the restraints, but she stops me with a softtsk.
“Sammy, baby,” I say through a pained grunt.
“Shh,” she whispers. “No talking. Just feel me.”
I let out a low curse, my entire body stiffening when I hear the slam of the front door.
“Sammy,” a man calls.
“Fuck,” she mumbles, climbing off me. She hastily grabs her jeans while I yank my arms to my chest in a swift movement to free myself.
“I thought you said your husband wasn’t coming,” I growl, bending down to undo my feet.
She tosses my pants and shoots me a dangerous look. “If you could get out of that, why did you let me do it?”
“Does that matter when your husband is about to murder me?” I jump up and into my pants while she hops around until her jeans are buttoned.
“Sammy, honey.” The voice is closer now.
A man in his fifties stops in the entryway, his gaze shooting between the two of us. He has white hair and glasses. He’sold, and for a moment I wonder what Sammy is doing with him before I take in the seriousness of this situation. I glance down, my dick still out, and I stuff it into my jeans before zipping up.
The man cocks his head to the side, remaining calm. Nothing about his lax demeanor screams he’s just found his wife with another man. Then his gaze cuts to the gun on the dining table. They widen, fear clear in the way his chest rises rapidly. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “I don’t have much, but it’s yours. Just don’t hurt her.”
