"That's not—Ineverchose her. It was a mistake?—"
"A mistake that lasted months!" She's crying now, angry tears streaming down her face. "You chose herevery timeyou went to her bed. Every time you lied to me. Every time you came home andkissed mewith her taste still on your lips."
The words hit like physical blows. I reach for her, and she steps back.
"Don'tfuckingtouch me. You lost that right."
"Like hell I did." Something snaps inside me. "You're my wife."
"Iwasyour wife. Now I'm just the same as every other woman you?—"
I close the distance between us in two strides, backing her against the counter. "Don't finish that sentence."
"Why? Are you afraid to hear the truth? That I meannothingto you?"
I see red. "Shut up."
"Make me."
The challenge in her eyes, the fury, the pain—it all collides at once. I crush my mouth to hers, pouring months of regret and desperation into the kiss. She fights me for a minute before her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer.
It's angry and desperate and full of pain. Her nails rake down my back as I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs. She bites my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
"I fuckinghateyou," she gasps against my mouth.
"I know." I kiss her neck, tasting salt from her tears. "I hate me too."
"You broke us." Her hands are in my hair, pulling.
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
She yanks my shirt over my head, her touch desperate and punishing. "Sorry doesn't fix it."
"I know." I work at the buttons of her blouse, my hands shaking. "I know it doesn't."
"You let her have you." Her voice breaks on the words. "You were supposed to bemine."
"Iamyours.Onlyyours."
"Liar." But she's kissing me again, biting, claiming, like she's trying to erase every trace of Annie from my skin.
We're frantic now, pulling at clothes, desperate to feel something other than this crushing pain. When I finally sink into her, we both cry out—from pleasure, from anguish, from the bittersweet relief of being connected again.
The fuckingfamiliarityof my wife makes my eyes roll in my head.
She’s back, she’s mine. Whatever she’s done with Kieron, it's me she’s come back to.
She wraps her legs around me, holding me close while simultaneously pushing me away with her words.
"I hate that I still want you," she whispers.
"I hate that I threwthisaway," I whisper back. “That I nearly lost you.”
We move together with desperate intensity, months of separation and betrayal and longing pouring out of us. It's not making love—it's more raw, more primal. We're hurting each other and healing each other and destroying each other all at once.
“Fuck me harder than you fucked her,” Ava demands, her eyes burning into mine.
“Ava,” my voice cracks, but she grits her teeth, yanking me against her.