by Stella Gray
My rage has returned, and I don’t know what to do with it. My instinct, even a month ago, would have been to start something up with Monica—she’s never made her interest in me a secret—but that doesn’t feel like an answer.
As I finally slip into my car, gripping the steering wheel tight and heaving out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I realize that it might not be rage that’s ripping me up inside right now. It might be something else.
Something more like heartbreak.
Not just for how bad things have gotten with Brooklyn and our marriage, but for everything going on with my father and my family, too. The worst-case scenario has become a nightmare reality for all of us, and even though I know I should be standing tall beside my brother and sister right now, I just can’t.
For years I’ve been the black sheep of the Zoric clan, the shadow that comes and goes without being missed. My family has been groomed to expect my absence. Why should it be any different now?
I doubt they’ll even notice that I’m gone.
And worse?
Neither will my wife.
Brooklyn
Chapter 5
Luka slips his hand from my grasp and disappears into the crowd. I turn and yell for him, but all I see is the back of his head as he darts away. My heart sinks.
It’s obvious he’s upset, but I have no idea how to approach him, what to say or do to give any amount of comfort. I’m not even sure how he feels about me showing up today. That’s why I’ve hesitated. And now it’s too late. He’s gone.
During his testimony, his distress on the stand had my stomach in knots. The truth is, I wanted nothing more than to run up and throw my arms around him, stand right behind him in the witness box with a hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t be so completely alone up there. But of course there was nothing I could do but sit and watch from the spectator area.
“Where’s Luka?” Emzee asks, linking her arm with mine as she looks around.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “He disappeared.”
“Something’s up between you and my brother,” Stefan says under his breath, shooting me a penetrating look. “The three of us should talk it over before it compromises DRM.”
I meet my brother-in-law’s searching gaze and force a smile, but don’t respond.
Believe me, I get what he’s saying. Stefan is right to worry about a fracture. This trial is a roadblock to Danica Rose Management’s new future, a future supported (in part) by the wholesome image Luka and I created. My absence from the morning session of today’s proceedings was definitely noticed, and it’s public knowledge that I’ve been out and about with Mateo lately. But right now my only concern is the man who just walked away from me.
Luckily, Stefan is too well-trained to press me in public, with all these eyes on us.
Giving Emzee a squeeze, I prepare to make my escape. “I better go catch up to him,” I announce. “See you all soon.” I hope that part isn’t a lie, too.
As I rush to the parking lot, my heart is pounding in my chest. The feel of Luka’s hand in mine did something to me. Broke something inside, shattering the anger I’ve been holding on to. His strong fingers twined themselves in mine for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to tell me that he needed the physical comfort of my touch more than he would ever admit.
I want to be present for Luka, be the support system he never really had until I came into his life. I’m not the perfect partner, but being there for him is something I know I can do right.
Unfortunately, neither his black Jag nor the silver Porsche convertible are anywhere to be found.
I check the time on my cell. It’s late. I wonder briefly if he’d head to the office or the gym to try to work off some steam, but I doubt it. He probably wants to be alone at home now, spending a few hours just staring out the living room windows that overlook the city. He’s prone to doing that, a mostly untouched tumbler of whiskey in hand, mulling whatever is on his mind.
It only takes me a couple minutes to hail a cab. The driver takes me to the place I’m staying and I have him wait at the curb while I slip into jeans and a comfortable shirt, then collect Mr. Kibbles. I might not be able to cheer Luka up properly, but I have no doubt he’ll be pleased to see the dog.
Back in the cab, I consider texting him to make sure it’s okay to stop by, but I can’t risk having him tell me not to come over. I’m just going to show up. And then…I’ll wing it.
It’s nearly dark by the time we pull up to the luxury apartment building. I let Mr. Kibbles do his business in the designated doggy area out front, then head around the back to the private entrance and take the elevator up. The dog starts to wiggle happily as we go, as if he’s been looking forward to this, too. I don’t feel right using my key and just walking in, so I knock.
There’s no response for a long moment. I’m about to knock again when the door suddenly swings open, and my heart catches in my throat. Luka’s white dress shirt is half unbuttoned, showing off a swatch of golden-tan skin. The sleeves are rolled up over his muscled forearms. His belt is undone and hanging loose. He’s barefoot.
And he’s wearing the most tired, lost expression I’ve ever seen.
My throat gets tight, and the little speech I memorized on the way over flies right out of my mind. We stand there in silence for what feels like forever. The dog starts to pant impatiently and strains at his leash, whining for Luka.
He steps back to let us in. I drop the leash and Mr. Kibbles goes running inside.
The door shuts behind me as I walk into the living room and find the dog turning in circles on his expensive orthopedic dog bed that I’d left behind. I glance behind me and catch my husband’s eyes. He’s watching the dog, too, but without a lick of expression. There’s nothing.
My chest swells and I reach for him. He doesn’t move away as I wrap my hands around his biceps and step into him. His scent wraps around me, both comforting and heady. A needy pulse beats between my legs as I lean my head against his neck, letting his warmth radiate into me. My body takes on a life of its own as I press my chest into his, then move even closer until the length of his torso touches mine. His breathing picks up. The pulse at the base of his neck beats harder, so close to my lips I could easily brush them against his skin without hardly trying.
“Luka,” I breathe. I can feel him sigh, but he says nothing.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t what he wants.
But I know this man. After all we’ve been through together, I know he needs comfort. Physical affection. Release.
“I want to be here for you,” I murmur. A possessive, demanding ache starts inside me.
Leaning back, I take his chin in my hand and tilt his face down toward mine. Instead of allowing the kiss, he turns his head.
“We shouldn’t do this right now.”
“We’ll address our issues later,” I tell him. “For now, I’m yours. Just use me tonight.”
His gaze finally meets mine, and what I see there is a combination of pain and hunger.
I loop a hand around the back of his neck and stand on my tippy-toes to brush my lips along his jaw, first one side, then the other. I don’t take his mouth because I don’t want him to pull away, so I ease into it, kissing him softly, slowly, working up to his ear and taking the tender lobe between my lips. He gasps quietly and I feel the shiver that goes through him. Encouraged, I nibble gently with my teeth.
Suddenly, he cups my face and claims my lips in a kiss that’s crushing, bruising, almost desperate. I love it. He walks me backward until I’m up against the wall and then traps me there with his body. I can feel the spear of his cock digging into my hip. The feel of it flames the wildness inside me and suddenly we’re clawing the clothes off each other. I end up naked first, his hot mouth closing over my nipple as he works my panties down. Panting, I stay still against the wall and watch him step out of his boxer briefs, standing there hard and ready and perfect for me. I long for whatever he’s going to do ne
xt. Pounce. Bite. Consume.
Please, yes. I want him to consume me.
My fingers ache to run over the cut lines of his chest and abs, the length of his dick, but I resist. He’s in control now and I don’t want it any other way.
In one swift move, he picks me up in his strong arms, his lips finding mine again as he walks us into the master bedroom. My heart thrums almost painfully in my chest as he lays me out on the giant bed and climbs over me. We become a frenzied tangle of limbs and hands and lips, touching everywhere, kissing and sucking every inch of skin we can reach.
I end up on top of him, my kiss-swollen lips cruising his chest and tracing the outline of his perfect musculature. I work my way down as his hands wind in my hair and trail over the back of my neck. Closing my hand around his stiff cock, I give it a hard squeeze and lick my lips, so thirsty for his taste and the smooth slide of his dick in my mouth.
But I don’t get the chance before he turns me to face the wall, my ass displayed for him.
“On your knees, and spread them wide.”
I scramble to get purchase on the comforter to do as he asks, but I don’t move fast enough. His palm comes down over my ass with a loud crack. I jerk at the sensation while biting my lower lip to hold back a delighted cry. I love it when he’s domineering in bed.
The hot sting of pain is followed by a heady rush of pleasure. Roughly, Luka grips my hips and adjusts me just the way he wants, then pushes me to all fours. His warmth covers my back as he leans slightly over me. The enlarged tip of his cock bumps against my wet pussy. Aching and needy, I push back against him, trying to force my walls to relax.
He rewards me by thrusting in, hard and deep.
“Luka,” I gasp, an urgent moan escaping me, my fists gripping the sheets.
I don’t have time to catch my breath before he begins pumping into me like a jackhammer, all his pent-up energy coming out in each frantic thrust. His movements are urgent and demanding, not gentle, but I don’t want him to be. The friction is amazing, and I love the way his fingers dig into my hips, holding me steady, his thighs slamming into the back of mine as he finds a rhythm, losing himself inside me.
“Touch yourself,” he commands me. “Make yourself come. Make it loud.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. But his impatience beats me to it. He pushes my head down on the mattress and then drags my hand between my legs. “Do it. Now.”
I pause to absorb the feeling of him pounding into me, so good I never want it to stop. Then, with a shaking hand, I do as he asks. I’m slick from his force, the sensation of his cock so all-consuming that I can barely find the strength or concentration to stroke my clit. He slaps my ass again and the shock of electricity nearly sends me over the edge.
I work myself with my fingers as he increases his pace, starting to lose control.
“Oh God,” I pant softly. “Yes, yes.”
“Louder.”
“Yes,” I yell. “Fuck yes, Luka. Fuck me.”
The sounds of our passion fill the room and my mind begins to slip into its own state of consciousness. One dominated by nothing but this feeling.
Then Luka slides a palm over my throat and forces my head back, squeezing just enough that I feel it when I try to breathe.
“Come for me,” he growls. “Come for me, wife.”
It’s enough to send me over the edge. Suddenly I’m climaxing with more force than I ever have in my life, my moans pitching higher and higher as a second shockwave ripples through me. His grip tightens and he groans long and loud as he thrusts almost violently into me, his own release exploding deep inside with a hot, furious pulse.
He pulls out almost immediately and collapses onto the bed, pulling me back with him. I topple in a graceless heap, facing the wall and panting for air. The sweat cooling on my skin causes me to shiver, and suddenly he’s curving himself around me, his arms holding me tight.
He’s holding on to me.
He used me like I asked him to, and now he’s not letting go.
Emotions well up in me as my heart rate slows and I let myself relax beside him. He pulls a light blanket over us and I lay completely still, taking in the steady feel of his chest rising and falling against my back and the heat of his body warming me. And then his arms go a little lax…then a little more, until I can tell by his steady, even breathing that he’s fallen asleep.
Lazily, I stroke his wrist with my fingers and it doesn’t take long for me to drift off in my husband’s embrace.
The next morning I wake with a start and it takes a second to realize where I am. Luka’s bedroom. The penthouse. Home.
Contentment settles over me, as if I belong here and nothing is out of place. Yet something is missing. I feel it even in my sleepy state. Stretching, I fling my arm over to Luka’s side of the bed and slowly roll that way as memories of the night before seep in.
Smiling, I press my face into his pillow, taking in his scent. It hits me then that his space is empty, the sheets cool. Disappointed, I turn over on my back and stare up at the familiar ceiling of the master suite. It’s okay that he’s gone, I tell myself. I’m the one who asked for a divorce. And I’m the one who told him to use me however he wanted to. Besides, Luka’s the last person who’d take a day off from work, even after a long day of testifying in court.
Despite the pang of hurt that he’s not here, I feel lighter somehow, as if fucking my husband is exactly what I needed to break the rut that I’m in.
I lay there a few moments more before rising and getting dressed and ready to leave. Mr. Kibbles is sleeping soundly on his doggie bed. All this back and forth isn’t really fair to him. But glancing around the living room, I know that I can’t stay. It’s not where I belong anymore. I just wish this whole thing didn’t feel so confusing.
“Come on, Kibby,” I croon as I snap his leash into place.
Leaving a note on the entryway table, I take one last look behind me before I walk out.
I wonder if Luka will even find it.
I needed last night. I hope you did too.
Brooklyn
Chapter 6
“Girls’ night!”
Tori’s singsong voice on the other end of my cell phone isn’t what I was expecting when I answered the call, but it’s got me a little hopeful.
Hopeful that I can peel myself off this uncomfortable pull-out sleeper sofa long enough to put down the family size bag of Cheetos I’ve been stuffing my face with for the past half hour and change into something other than two-day-old pajamas. My fingertips are orange, my eyes glazed over from the hours I’ve spent binge-watching Tiger King. It’s not a good look.
As Tori starts rambling about logistics, I trudge into the kitchen to put my snacks away.
“So what do you think?” Tori says.
“I think Carol Baskin is guilty as hell,” I say confidently.
Tori pauses. “Sorry, what?”
“From Tiger King,” I explain, as if everyone on the planet should know who she is. “You know, the lady who killed her husband and fed him to her pet tigers? I mean, not that I blame her. He was kind of an asshole. How have you not seen the show?”
There’s another pause. “Is this your way of saying you want to kill Luka? Because we don’t have any pet tigers and the zoo is too far away to transport a body without getting caught.”
I laugh along with her. Bumping off my husband? Nah. Sure, I’ve had the impulse to strangle him more times than I can count, but that’s as deep as my violent streak goes.
It’s been a few days since we slept together, and ever since I left the penthouse I haven’t been able to stop replaying that night in my head—each delectable moment—while also battling regret over offering myself up to him like that with no strings attached.
Because what happens now? Are we going to talk things out? Will we never speak of that night again? What’s our status? Are we still fighting?
The thing is, as much as I wish I had all the answers, the bigger part of me
doesn’t regret a thing. I miss Luka, and sharing a few intimate moments with him only served to remind me of the fact that despite everything we’ve been through, we have a true and unbreakable connection.
At least, I think we do.
Shaking my thoughts away, I ask, “So what exactly am I agreeing to tonight?”
“Just dinner. Drinks for you and Emzee. Dancing…for you and Emzee.”
I make a soothing sound. “Awww, you might not be able to drink while pregnant, but there aren’t any rules against dancing, Tor.” I think about that a second. “Wait, are there? I guess I wouldn’t really know.”
She laughs. “No, no rules against it. I’m just more of the slow-waltzing type than the shaking-my-booty type. Anyway, Top Lounge at seven?”
The Top is a fancy club in downtown Chicago that usually takes months to get people in for a reservation. Unless you’re a Zoric, of course. I’ve never been there, though, and I’ve been dying to go. How can I pass it up? It’s not like I have anything else to do.
“Sounds perfect,” I agree. “I’ll meet you two there.”
After I hang up, it hits me: How much does Luka’s family know about what’s going on between me and him? I know they noticed my late arrival to the trial two days ago. I also know that sometimes Luka confides in Stefan—or, more accurately, Stefan coerces confidences out of his younger brother. But if the Zorics know I’ve left Luka, they haven’t called me out on it yet.
The more I think about it, the more wary I become. Perhaps this girls’ night is really just an information-mining endeavor. But even if it is, I need to know what they’re all thinking and saying about me and Luka, if they’re aware of the trouble between us at all. I guess girls’ night will be a chance for all of us to dig for intel. Plus, I love my sisters-in-law. I can’t begrudge them for their curiosity and concern.
