by Denise Wells
The shoe bounces off Pax’s forehead, nicking his skin.
“Ow!”
“That’s right, you big lug. Ferragamos are fierce.”
“(BLEEP), Tabs! That (BLEEP) hurt.”
Tabatha looks around, as though searching for something else to destroy. She makes a move for Pax’s grandfather’s Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph. An original print from The Battle of the Bulge in World War II. He treasures it. Maybe even more than his cameras.
“Don’t do it,” Pax warns.
Tabatha takes it from the wall and tosses it to the side, like a frisbee. Both watch as it crumbles to the floor, frame and all.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: The minute I do it, I know I’ve gone too far. I see the devastation on Pax’s face and I instantly regret my actions. It’s one step too far. Well, one step beyond the Hasselblad, another that I also should never have taken. But it’s too late to take it back.
“You (BLEEP). Do you hate me that much?” Pax asks.
“I’m not sure how to answer that, Pax, other than to say, yes!”
Pax stalks toward Tabatha.
Tabatha hunches down, her stance wobbly on the mattress, arms out to the side for balance, ready to bolt in either direction. But Pax is a big guy and his arms more than span the width of their California king bed. Pax grabs Tabatha’s hand and yanks her toward him, then he tosses Tabatha over his shoulder like it’s nothing.
“Put me down!” Tabatha cries.
“Not a chance, babe.” Pax spanks her. Hard.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I’m not going to lie, it made me cry when he spanked me. But at the same time, it was such a turn-on. Which is why I cry. I literally disgust myself by still wanting him. Even now. But no way will I let him see me tear up.
Tabatha pounds on Pax’s back the entire trip down the stairs, but to no avail. Pax opens the front door and dumps Tabatha in their front yard.
Literally.
On her ass.
Claps his hand together in an all-done motion and turns to stride back into the house. The door is shut, and the new lock turned before Tabatha even has a chance to get to her feet.
PAX VOICEOVER: I’m halfway up the stairs in the house before I remember I left the ladder outside against the window. Because, I’m a (BLEEP) idiot.
Pax takes the remaining stairs two at a time. He reaches the master bedroom right as Tabatha tumbles through the window.
Tabatha stands and flips her long red hair over her head with her forearm, huffing as she goes.
Tabatha’s eyes narrow.
Pax looks at her, in her bare feet with her hair awry, reddened cheeks, and dress that is ripped slightly at the bodice. He chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” Tabatha asks.
“You remind me of the women on one of those historic romance covers you love to read. The fierce and beautiful, disheveled woman fighting a pirate, or baron, or whoever the hell she would fight before she (BLEEP) him.”
“They only did that because they were in love. And complimenting me will get you nowhere.”
“You thought that was a compliment, Tabs?” Pax sneers.
Tabatha straightens and points her nose in the air. “You said fierce and beautiful.”
“So, I did.” Pax moves toward her. Tabatha backs up to the wall behind her. “And you are both.”
PAX VOICEOVER: Because there are times, like now, that I can forgive Tabatha in an instant for something otherwise unforgivable if it means I get to (BLEEP) her. Maybe not completely forgive, but definitely forget for a while. It’s part of her charm, the ability to make me forget all the bad and retain only the good.
Tabatha’s breath catches as Pax reaches up to push her hair behind her ear, running his fingertips along her cheek in the process. Tabatha leans into his touch, despite herself.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I hate that he has this sexual power. Like an electric current that snakes its way between us.
“We may suck at being married, babe,” Pax growls into Tabatha’s ear. “But we have never sucked at (BLEEP).”
PAX VOICEOVER: And even better than that? Hate-(BLEEP). Because just as quickly as I forget, I choose to remember. She killed my Hasselblad. And destroyed my grandfather’s Pulitzer (BLEEP) Prize-winning photograph. The original, not a reproduction. So, yeah, I hate her. With every fiber of my being, I despise her.
Pax leans in and captures Tabatha’s lips with his. Within seconds she has her arms wound around his neck and is moaning into his mouth.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I may hate him with everything I have and everything I am. But I still die for his touch.
Pax reaches around and grabs her ass and squeezes hard, tightening his hold as Tabatha’s body melts into his. Until the two are a writhing mess of hot breath and long moans.
Tabatha pulls away. “Just so we’re clear, I hate you. This changes nothing.”
“Ditto, babe.”
ANNOUNCER VOICEOVER: And the rest, as they say, is history.
