Page 76 of Submission

Hunter has staved off his own release for as long as he could and finally puts a stop to this train wreck of a sex session.

“Let me call the restaurant,” he says and gives me an obligatory tap on the ass to move out of the way so he can get up to pee.

So now I’m spread eagle on the bed.

Naked as a jaybird.

And as the tears roll down the sides of my face and onto the pillow, I'm asking myself…what on earth just happened?

What's my fucking problem now?

Chapter 30

I Don’t Like Distance

Hunter

For days, I’ve quietly watched my lover move through her usual daily activities on autopilot. While I know Megan has been through something extremely traumatic, and I shouldn’t expect miracles, something is off. Way off. She’s not necessarily avoiding me, but there is definitely a distance between us.

I don’t like distance.

Not from her.

Not after everything we’ve been through.

And especially not now that she’s become such a huge part of my life.

After ringing the bell to the apartment, I can hear Naomi’s slow, hobbled steps finally reach the door. Megan told me she broke her foot in some sort of accident, which is why she’s been spending more time in the apartment with her instead of with me.

“Sorry to hear about your foot, but I’m glad that Megan has something else to focus her attention on,” I say as she opens the door, leaning on one crutch.

“We’ve always focused on each other’s well-being. No need to thank me for what I’ve always done,” she says back with a smug twang to her voice that irritates me to no end.

Struggling to find anything nice to say to this woman is a feat in itself. Why do I even bother? I can appreciate that she’s fiercely protective of Megan, especially after hearing about everything Megan had to deal with at the Blue Whiskey and from her own family. So I get it, but it’s just that her attitude toward me leaves a lot to be desired, especially because she does nothing to hide it. If she were anyone else treating me with such disdain…hell, I hate to think how I would have already destroyed her life if she were anyone else.

“Do you talk to all of your landlords like this?” I say, immediately pissed with myself that I’m not able to let this go.

“You’re not my landlord,” she says with a shit-eating grin. “You’re Megan’s landlord, and I’m her guest.”

“A guest with her own bedroom?”

“I suppose that’s why they call it a guest bedroom.”

“I’m not here to trade passive-aggressive barbs with you. Where’s Megan?” I ask impatiently. I’ve been in this apartment for damn near five minutes, and she hasn’t come out to greet me yet.

“Stop stressing her. Lord knows she can hear your voice from the bedroom. She’ll come out in a minute.” Naomi hobbles to the couch and plops herself on the couch, finally turning on the flat-screen television. “Also, Lena is going to the exhibition in my place tonight, so you’d better take excellent pictures.”

“What the hell were you doing that you even broke your foot, clumsy?“ I taunt but am cut off when Naomi shouts out.

“Megan, your landlord is out here being a dick to me!”

I give her an icy look, and she gives me a mocking wiggle of her brows.

“What’s going on?” Megan appears in the room's doorway, looking harried. She gives me a narrow-eyed look when I stride toward her. “You’re an ice sculpture to the rest of the world but when you’re around Naomi, you pick fights?”

“I don’t pick fights,” I say with a smirk. “I end them.”

“What are you, Don Corleone?” Naomi jeers from her seat. “Am I in the middle of a scene inThe Godfatherand didn’t realize it?”

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