Page 58 of Dragonfly

No more hug. No more kisses. She reaches between us, tucking her breast back into her dress before patting me on the chest.

Understanding the signal even if I don’t like it, I pull out of her.

Savannah slides down my body, pushing against the wall to move me away from her..

I miss the warmth of her in my arms instantly.

I’m panting. Coming down from my climax… I’m shuddering, too. I haven’t come so hard in longer than I want to admit, but she pushes off my chest, and gives me her back, all while I have the promises to give her the world in the corner of my mouth..

Once there’s some space between us, Savannah pats her dress into place. Then, without a word to me, she starts to totter across the room. One heel came partly off her foot while I was pinning her into place against the door, fucking her like mad, and she pauses just long enough to adjust her foot before she straightens her back, gripping the doorknob.

She’s going to leave me. She’s going to walk out of the manager’s office like that didn’t just happen.

Like I didn’t finally fuck her.

Not in this lifetime, wife.

There’s only one way I can think to stop her. If I demand her to return to me, she’ll keep going just out of spite. But if I do this… it might mean I’ll have to show my cards sooner than I wanted to, but it’s a surefire way to get her attention.

Stopping only to fix my pants so that I don’t have to confront her with my spent cocking hanging out, I take two steps and call out the one word guaranteed to stop her in her tracks before she can get far enough away from me:

“Georgia.”

TWENTY

GEORGIA GAYLE

SAVANNAH

Georgia.

I haven’t heard that name in almost a year, but my husband just used it.

Husband. Right. For weeks now, I’ve been telling myself that our marriage is a sham. A fucking joke.

Whatever it is, there’s no denying that we just consummated it.

That’s a nice way of saying that Damien Libellula just fucked my brains out—and I wanted him to. I was into it all the way, and even know that I’m walking away on wobbly legs, I can’t deny that.

He killed a man for touching me. Didn’t even hesitate. Swiped his stiletto across Ricky’s throat, blood dribbling down his throat, and instead of being the cold Damien I’ve gotten used to, I got to see the fiery side of him before he lost the last of his control.

But that Damien is back now, and I can hear it in the way he says my old name.

“Georgia—”

“Savannah,” I say firmly, turning to face him. “Please. Georgia is dead.”

“Because I killed her. And that’s why you’re so determined to kill me.” He crouches low, grabbing the stiletto from the tile. “But you couldn’t. Could you?”

I hold out my palm. “So I missed,” I say, bluffing like hell. “They say third time’s the charm. Pass it over, Damien. Let’s see if I miss again.”

Damn it. With a daring look on his gorgeous face, he calls my bluff. Placing the hilt against my palm again, he backs up, spreading his arms wide. “Do it.”

“No.” I drop the stiletto back to the floor.

“Because Georgia Gayle isn’t a murderer, is she?”

My empty hands flex, and I almost regret dropping that knife after all. With fire in my eyes, I glare at him. “You don’t know anything about her.”

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