Private Affairs(26)
“I have things I do. I jog sometimes. I see Sam often. I’m not a shut-in.”
He looked at me over the rim of his glass as he sipped his scotch. After a beat, he pulled the glass from his mouth and placed it slowly on the tabletop. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low again.
“Well, then please, elaborate.”
“I meant does your husband leave you here alone often?”
His question threw me again, and I didn’t know how to answer it. I suspected if I told him the truth, it might elicit a reaction from him I didn’t want to deal with. Then again, I suspected if I lied to him, he’d know. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I thought he already knew the answer to his question.
“Sometimes,” was the answer I settled on.
“Sometimes?”
I shrugged, offering him nothing else.
“I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”
His words cut right through the pretense I had been trying to build for the last hour and a half. Sliced right through the wall I’d put up. It had been years since a man had shown any kind of concern for me. I’d been on my own for so long, I couldn’t have anticipated what it would feel like when a man, whom I apparently desired, showed concern for me. For whatever reason, Preston cared.
Before, in the closet, I could have written the whole ordeal off as physical – no, sexual – chemistry, but when he said things like that, basically telling me he cared about my well-being, there was no going back.
“I have an alarm,” was my brilliant response.
“A man shouldn’t leave his wife in a bed, alone, by herself, for any reason.” He paused, perhaps waiting for me to interject, but I had no argument. I agreed with him. “Why do you put up with it?”
“I don’t anymore.”
“Hmm.” His voice rumbled, even though he didn’t really speak any words. “If you were mine, you’d never get a chance to even feel the sheets getting cold.”
As if he’d reached inside, grabbed my breath, and dragged it from my body, I gasped.
“There wouldn’t be a thing in this world that could keep me from my bed, were you in it.”
He’d slayed me twice. A combo hit. TKO.
“Preston,” I whispered, simply unable to piece any more words together than that. He didn’t say another word, just slammed the rest of his scotch, got up, and walked out my door. I gaped after him, not sure what I was supposed to do. How does one recover from words like that?
Eventually I stood up, bringing both our empty glasses to the kitchen, placing the tumblers in the dishwasher. I walked to the foyer and punched in the passcode on the security panel, activating the alarm. I went upstairs and decided to take a long and very hot shower.
I spent most of my time in the shower replaying the entire evening, wondering how I’d gotten myself into such a strange situation. It might have been the longest shower I’d ever taken, and it took all the self-control I had not to slide my hand between my legs and replay the words he’d said to me over and over in my mind. I wasn’t stupid enough to deny the fact my body wanted him – badly. But when everything else was said and done, I was still a married woman, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a married woman who crossed those lines. And touching myself while thinking about another man wasn’t something I thought was right to do, even if I desperately wanted to.
When I finally made it to bed, I pulled the covers back, bracing myself for cold sheets, then went to the window to close the curtains. Right before they closed all the way, I noticed the black Lotus sitting on the street just a few houses down.
Chapter Eight
When I woke up the next morning, Preston’s car was gone. I tried not to think about him sitting in the Lotus all night keeping watch over my house because he cared about me. Nothing good could come from the warmth I felt in my chest when I thought about it, so I tried not to. It wasn’t easy, especially because he came back every night for the rest of the week and kept watch over me.
Derrek hardly came home at all, and when he did, it was only for a few moments. He’d grab something and leave again, or pick up some mail he’d been expecting. Once or twice, he said something to me, but mostly, he wasn’t even looking for me, only speaking to me if he happened to encounter me.
It took everything in me to not question him about Jessica, or let him know I knew what a scumbag he was, but I knew I had to bide my time. Eventually, I hoped I’d be able to tell him everything I wanted to. Right before I walked out the door forever.
On Thursday, after Derrek had come home and so brazenly packed an overnight bag, not even trying to convince me he was going away for business, I lost a little of my self-control and decided to call Preston for an update on the investigation. Surely, he’d have found something by then. I dialed his number and after a few rings, he answered with his deep voice, sending involuntary shivers up my spine.