Page 91 of Venomous Kiss
“So, then you’re what?”
“I’m your fucking husband. We established this already.”
“So…” the lady in the kitchen, who can more than likely see my bare ass, says.
Lilith sighs and hands me a towel. “Cover yourself. And go take a shower. I can smell the alcohol leaching from your pores.”
“Call it your boyfriend,” I tell her, leaning into her space.
A small smile breaks on her lips. “No. Now, shower.”
She steps past me, while I wrap the towel around my waist and turn around as she walks into the kitchen. Her aunt says something to her in a hushed tone, and both of them look at me.
“I’m not showering unless you join me,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“Why are you here anyway? I told you to call like a normal person, yet you came over after I expressly asked you not to.”
“I’m your husband,” I remind her.
She holds up a finger, and her aunt busies herself with the groceries.
“One, did you drug me to make that deal, or did you do something behind my back? Two, I never invited you over.”
“Three, get in the fucking shower,” I growl. I stalk to her bathroom and turn the shower on cold and wash away all the fucking alcohol I drank all night. Scrubbing myself, I stand under the spray, letting it wake me up when I only want to sleep, with her right next to me. Grabbing my cell from the bathroom counter, I find her number and send her a text.
Me: I’m in the shower, and I plan to stay. This is your notice.
“Reon,” she calls out, and I grin as I step back under the water.
The door swings open, and when I glance over, there she stands, naked, the towel pooled in a heap at her feet.
When she opens the shower door and steps inside, she says, “You aren’t allowed to touch me. Tell me you understand.” My gaze rakes over her, from her toes, which have chipped pink nail polish on them, to the scrapes on her legs, and all the way up to her arm, where the bandage is still tightly wrapped. When I finally make it to her eyes, she’s watching me.
“No touching. I mean it, Reon.”
“What’s your favorite day?” I ask as I move out of the spray, and she steps under it. After grabbing the soap, she lathers it up and starts to wash herself.
“Favorite day? That’s weird.”
“No, it’s not. Tell me your favorite day.”
“Wednesday,” she says with a smile.
“Why?”
“Because it gives you a feel for the rest of the week. Monday and Tuesday are the build-up, Wednesday is the settle-in day, and Thursday and Friday are the end of the work week before the weekend.” She closes her eyes before opening them and locking them on mine. “My favorite color is red. What’s yours?”
“Chocolate.” As I go to reach for her, those chocolate eyes of hers narrow at me, and I drop my hand to my side. “And I already knew red was your favorite color, Caterpillar. Just as I know you twitch before you fall asleep, and the fact that you love it when I drag my fingers over your face before I lean in to bite you. Or even when I place my hands around your throat. You love the color red because it’s the color of blood.”
She turns, giving me her back, her ass on full display. “You can’t touch it,” she reminds me from over her shoulder as she washes her face.
“Just once?” I ask, my hand reaching out toward her.
“No. And if you don’t listen, you will never touch it again.”
“That’s unfair.”
“No, what’s unfair is saying we’re married when we aren’t.”
