Page 71 of Bad Husband

I discreetly adjust myself—wishing Madison would lay her mouth in my lap—and then I wink at Thomas.

You didn’t think he’d turn away from this, did you? Nope. He’s still fixated on us.

When I wink, his head snaps the other direction, quickly, his eyes on the television to his right but there’s no way he’s forgetting what he just witnessed. I certainly wouldn’t.

Before you go judging me, think about what I’m attempting to do here. Everywhere I turn there’s another obstacle in my way. I have to use my advantages where I can, even if that means finger fucking my wife while her ex-boyfriend watches to let him know there’s absolutely no fucking way he has a chance with her again.

The waiter approaches, glances at me and then Madison. “Are you ready to order, Mrs.?”

Do you see the way her posture stiffens and the pink on her cheeks? It’s an indication she’s still trying to calm herself down.

“She’ll need a minute… to decide,” I tell the waiter, proudly.

He nods and darts his eyes to mine. “Take your time.”

Madison’s mouth presses into a firm line. “Ridley?”

“Yes?”

“Did you do that because Thomas is sitting in the bar and can see us?”

I shrug, reaching for my water. I look a little closer at what I thought was a plant. It wasn’t. It was some woman’s hat and she moved. I can’t lie to her. A smile pulls at the edges of my mouth when I say, “Maybe.”

“Well….” Her right hand glides up my thigh and then stops at the bulge in my pants. “I was going to repay the favor, in front of everyone… but now I think I’ll make you wait a little while,husband.”

On the bright side, she called me her husband for the first time in months. There’s that.

Not so bright side?

My smooth balls are blue.

HOURS LATER, I wake up to Madison snoring. Madison swears she doesn’t snore. She’d be wrong. I think she’s trying to annoy me with it. Ordinarily her snoring doesn’t bother me but tonight, I’m about ready to smother her because I’m sexually frustrated and have no tolerance for her snoring or her need to constantly be moving while sleeping.

And look at her all nice and cozy and sexually satisfied. Me on the other hand, she didn’t return the favor once we got upstairs. Mostly because she found out I was putting on a show for her ex, but that’s not the point here.

The point is I’mhornyand can’t sleep and I know if I wake her up for sex she’ll straight up punch me in the face or the dick.

So there I lay, staring at the ceiling wide awake with Madison’s legs on mine. I’ve never understood the movies where couples sleep right on top of each other in loving embraces. It’s not accurate. Stop lying, Hollywood. I need my space, and I hate noises at night. And movement. Madison does both all night long and sleeps like a fucking chicken wing.

“Just stop moving around,” I tell her, kicking her leg off me.

“What?” She startles awake as if she’s doing nothing wrong. “What’s your problem?”

“You. You’re my problem with your overactive feet.”

“You’re impossible. You want me to sleep in the bed with you, but you can’t stop complaining.” She pulls the blankets toward her.

“I’m impossible?” I take a handful of blankets and rip them my way. “Why can’t you just lie here and sleep? You’re the impossible one and annoying.”

“I am not.”

My grandparents slept in separate rooms, and I always thought that was odd. Not so much anymore. I totally understand why people have separate bedrooms.

Ten minutes later, Madison is back to snoring.

I kick her in the shin, hoping she’ll wake up and stop those horrid noises coming from her mouth. I mean, who makes noises like that? She sounds like a pissed off Donald Duck. Was she suffocating? My God.

“What was that?” she yelps, grabbing her calf.

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