“Jealousy.”
“Yeah, and I’ve never felt that emotion before, so I don’t know how to deal with it.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“It’s not something I want to get used to. I don’t like feeling like that.”
“So talk to him.”
Snorting, I lift my head. “Yeah, at some point I’ll grow some balls and hear him out. I just don’t know when that will be.”
“Don’t let it go too long. If you want this to work with him, you need to know she’s out of his life and hear why she was in it in the first place, when they obviously didn’t suit each other.”
“You don’t think they did?” I question, running my hand over the cold countertop.
“No, he’s nice, and she makes the ice queen seem tame. I only saw them together a few times, and I definitely never saw him touch her like I saw him touch you this morning.”
“I never saw him touch her either,” I mutter, wondering what the hell that’s about.
“Just ask him about it.”
“I will,” I agree.
“I should go.” She hops down off the stool. “I need to pick up some groceries and take them home before I have to meet my first client.”
“Sure.” I follow her down the hall toward the front door.
“We should do dinner with the guys this weekend.”
“I’ll talk to Dillon,” I concur, giving her a hug before stepping back and opening the door.
“Call me. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I wait, watching her get into her car, then shut the door and head back to living room, where I plop down on the couch and wonder if I will have the guts to talk to Dillon before it’s too late.
Chapter 4
Ashlyn
Being careful not to cut myself, I sing, “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy, was he?” and listen to the sound of my voice bounce off the walls around me. It’s been ten days since I was able to enjoy a normal shower, and I’m loving every second of it. Humming the end, I scream as the shower curtain is ripped open and Dillon’s eyes scan over me, leaving me frozen in place.
“Babe, seriously?” He laughs, and my brain kicks in as I scramble off the bench I was sitting on while shaving my vagina and attempt to cover myself, smearing shaving cream everywhere in the process.
“Oh, my God! What are you doing? You can’t just come in here!” I screech, bending at the waist in an attempt to hide as much of myself as I can.
“I think the real question is why do you have a theme song for shaving your vagina? And”—he holds up his hand, pointing at his finger and the band there—“you’re my wife. I can do whatever the fuck I want when it comes to you.”
“Get out!” I shout, knowing it’s pointless to argue, since every time I do, he goes over the top on me and forces me to admit we are married.
“I need a shower.” He lifts his hands behind his head and pulls off his shirt.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I growl, “You are not getting in here with me.” Feeling my core tighten at just the thought, I can’t take much more of this self-induced torture. Every time he’s close to me, it makes it hard not to give in to my body and jump him.
“Why are your eyes closed?” I feel his heat at my back and his teeth nip the skin of my neck as he slides his hands around me, pulling me flush against him.
His arousal bumps against me, and I beg silently for mercy. “Dillon.”
“Hmm?” he breathes against my neck, coasting his fingers down my stomach. “Are you smooth now?” God, I don’t know. I can’t even remember how much shaving I got done before he interrupted me, but I think I at least got myself cleaned up enough so it’s no longer a jungle down there. “Are you wet?”
“I’m in the shower, so yes,” I state, trying to sound mad, but the moan that escapes proves I’m a liar.
His free hand moves up to tweak my nipple, sending a bolt of pleasure through me. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.” He nips my earlobe then licks down the column of my throat, biting my shoulder while his fingers slide between my folds and over my clit, causing my hips to jerk forward. I’m lost in him. Completely lost in him—his mouth on my neck, his hand at my breast, his fingers between my legs. I will give him anything he wants right now, as long as he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.
“Oh, God,” I moan as one finger slides inside of me.
“Not God.” He nips my neck hard, thrusting two fingers deep. “Your husband.”
My head falls back against his shoulder as I ride his fingers. I knew I missed his touch, but didn’t know how much until right now. His thumb rolls over my clit and his hand at my breast squeezes.