Page 78 of Never Been Worse

“I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t quite understand.”

“This is going to dry in an hour, max. That’s the point of the spray bottle, it’s to give a fine and even application. He won’t know it happened by the time he gets home.”

“Okay…” I start, still not understanding.

Finally, he finishes the underside of the cushions and stands, facing me with a wide, devious grin. “But have you ever smelled milk after it sits on something for a few days and goes rancid?”

My stomach sours and I nod, the picture he’s painting starting to fill in.

“So Jeremy here is going to slowly have the most rank smell filling his house and not know where it’s coming from. He can wash the blanket,” he starts to spray the purely-for-decoration couch blanket I bought him for Christmas a year ago. “And change out the pillows.” He sprays those too. “But the couch will still reek.” Then he turns the nozzle to the carpet. “And the carpet. Next I’ll do the curtains and last will be his bed.”

“His bed?” I ask with a squeak, staring wide eyed at him.

“Even if he moves to try and escape it, assuming it’s something in his crawl space or walls or whatever, the stank is going to follow him when he brings his furniture,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes.

I understand it now, and even though it’s kind of genius, it’s a bit scary that he not only thought of this in the small time frame we had this morning, but followed through with it.

“I think you’ve been spending much too much time with Ava,” I say with a laugh and a shake of my head.

He steps closer to me, pulling me in tight and pressing a hard kiss to my lips. “This is the least of what he deserves,” he says, then steps back, continuing his dirty work. “Now go, check around, and make sure there’s nothing else you want or need from here. I don’t want to come back and have to smell this place.”

I let out a laugh before doing as he asked, feeling much more light-hearted than I ever thought I would be walking these halls again. I don’t see anything of mine around, so it was either tossed out or I grabbed it before I left.

I go back to the box, sifting through things to double check what he left, pausing when I see a plain envelope withHarperwritten on it in Jeremy’s handwriting. I groan internally, and decide I’ll handlethatlater.

When I enter the living room once more, he’s finishing up on the curtains, the bottle half empty. “Good?”

I nod. “I think all of it is in the box, so we can leave whenever you’re done,” I say, giving him a smile.

“Got it. Just have to do the last stop, his bedroom,” he says, then moves toward the room I pointed out.

It’s actually kind of hot to see, this big rock star of a man committing what could go down as the most sneaky, petty revenge on a man just because he treated me poorly.

He starts with the carpet in Jeremy’s room, the one I never slept in, the one he never fucked me in because he’d rathermess upmy room than his. That should have been a sign, no? Never wanting me in his bed? Though, I suppose him never being that worried about my actually coming was also a sign I ignored. I’m thinking on that, watching Wes’s toned back move beneath his Henley shirt as he moves around with the bottle, moving to the curtains when I get an idea.

It’s insane, but I don’t know if one could call me exactlysanethese days.

“Wait,” I say, as he lifts the spray bottle, his face looking at my questioning, but I smile and take a step closer to the bed. “What about one last revenge?”

THIRTY

WES

“What about one last revenge?” Harper asks, and my brow comes together in confusion as I look to her, my hand frozen as it’s about to spray the milk onto his bed.

The confusion clears quickly when she steps closer to me, her hand moving to my jaw and urging me to bend and kiss her. It’s hot and quick and fierce, and I groan into it, my free hand wrapping around her back.

“I never came in this bed,” she whispers, and my fingers dig into her side. It’s strange, the mixture of jealousy and arousal I feel. “Are you jealous, Mr. Holden?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, Mrs. Holden,” I growl against her lips.

“There’s no need,” she says, her voice teasing and lilting. Her hands move, drifting down my chest to the button at my pants.

“Harper,” I say, but she’s unzipping my fly and pushing my pants down, grabbing my cock in her hand. “Harper.”

“One last revenge,” she whispers, and then moves to her knees. I don’t stop her, completely transfixed on my wife as she brings her mouth to the head of my cock, holding my eyes as she hollows out her cheeks, sucking on the tip.

I lose any and all restraint.

---