17. Alexander
CHAPTER 17
Alexander
G etting half-drowned had absolutely been worth it, even though I’d coughed up pond water all afternoon.
It was all worth it to hear Delilah’s voice when she ordered Roger to stop.
I couldn’t be mistaken about the note of concern in her voice.
Maybe doesn’t want me to drown was a weak basis for hope. But it was all I had so I was going to stick to it.
It was still about 100 fucking degrees at 8 pm, and my shirt stuck to my chest as I walked across the palace lawns to the sparkling royal pool.
Delilah was out there in jeans shorts and a T-shirt, her curly hair tucked up in a messy adorable bun. And I was drawn to her. Like a moth to a flame, because I was going to batter myself over and over against her shining light until she gave me a chance or I was lying beaten on the floor.
My staff were out there too, but at this point were they really my staff?
They were far more loyal to the Queen than they were to me.
And that was as it should be. Because she was loyal and strong and good, not a weak spineless cheater like me.
She was bent over a lawnmower with Davies beside her.
My belly burned with jealousy and rage.
Was this how Delilah had felt anytime she saw me with another woman? Constantly wondering if I loved someone else?
I felt sick with shame and regret.
But even if Delilah hated me, I’d be damned if I’d let some other man try to seduce her away from under my nose.
“Get away from my wife, Davies,” I said quietly.
He jerked his head around, his face flushing.
“I was just showing her—” he began, but I gripped him by the collar, feeling the tension throb under my jaw as I tightened my hold on the other man.
“I know what you were doing. But she’s my wife and you will stay away from her. Do you understand me?”
Gasping for breath, Davies finally nodded, and I loosened my fingers, giving him a shove to make sure he left.
“Did you forget we aren’t together anymore?” Delilah shot angrily at me. “You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot talk to.”
Oh, god, did she ever look adorable angry, her full pink mouth turned down in a frown, her dark eyes with those thick dark lashes snapping at me.
One lock of her curly hair was stuck to her elegant neck with the heat, and I wanted to move it gently with my fingers, run my tongue up and down her throat, inhale her scent, revel in the fucking pleasure of being able to touch her, taste her.
If I got another chance, I wouldn’t ever let a day go by without making sure she was thoroughly pleasured this time.
“I’m not telling you who you can and can’t talk to,” I said. “I’m just telling Davies that I’ll punch him in the fucking nose if I see him talking to you again.”
Delilah huffed angrily, tightening her lips and tapping her toe.
Her hip jutted out, and her little T-shirt rode up, showing me a few inches of her lovely soft belly. I could feel my cock twitching in my pants.
Her anger made me even more hopeful. Anything was better than her cold, frozen indifference.
Davies had moved away and Delilah made as if to leave, too.
“Please, Delilah,” I said, willing my voice to be calm, even though inside I was anything but, the tiny spark of hope making me feel wild and feral. “Let me show you how to fix it.”
For a moment, she held my eyes and I was enraptured, spellbound by her, the way her dark lashes laid against her cheeks, the adorable spray of freckles that definitely hadn’t been there when we were first married.
“Fine,” she said, making my heart leap with a rush of heady joy.
I hoped I’d remember the steps to fix the mower with Delilah’s intoxicating presence beside me.
I brushed her hand as I directed her motions and, without thinking, I held her fingers, cradling them gently in mine. Her hand was soft and warm, and I was filled with a wave of hopelessly desirous longing.
This is the way things used to be.
Taking Delilah’s hand without even thinking twice about it.
I didn’t fully appreciate walking hand-in-hand down a forest trail with her, my backpack full of climbing supplies, everything easy and smooth with her, my shoulders for once relaxed and my whole body happy with my wife beside me.
Like a dipshit, I didn’t appreciate it until it was gone, of course.
She removed her hand carefully, filling me with a deep sense of loss, as she followed my instructions for repairing the machine.
“You pick everything up so easily,” I croaked out, my voice raspy with need.
She’s so close that it’s so tempting to put my hands on her face, pull her closer and kiss her, wrapping my arms around her so I can feel that heavenly sensation again for the first time in weeks.
“Thank you,” she says gently, like I’m her grandmother. “You did a good job of teaching me.”
I’m about to preen under her compliment when she adds, “You’re going to have to learn how to live without me, you know.”
It’s like a dagger to my heart. “No!” I cried. “I can’t do that, Delilah.”
How does she look so effortlessly cool in this fucking boiling weather? I can feel sweat dripping down my face, rolling down my back, but she looks cool and composed.
What a fucking perfect Queen she makes. Calm, collected, sheer perfection in a crisis.
But this is my crisis. I caused it and it’s killing me.
“You can do it,” she replied.
“What will it take for you to believe me that I’m sorry?” I said, steeling my voice, but it doesn’t totally eliminate the low, begging whine that’s under the surface.
I have no dignity I give a fuck about anymore.
“I am begging you, Delilah,” I added. “I have never been so sorry in my life.”
She flicked her eyes over me. What does she see? Does she see a cheating husband that’s lying through his teeth? Or does she see a broken man desperate to have another chance?
“Oh, I believe you’re sorry,” she said in an acid tone. “I believe you want to get back with me. But I just don’t believe you won’t do it again, and I won’t be with anyone I can’t trust.”
“Never, never!” I keen anxiously, scooting closer to her. “I’m not perfect but I can promise I’ll never make that horrible mistake again!”
The thought of even touching another woman makes me nauseated. And, even more, the thought of doing something that hurts Delilah is unendurable.
My knees just touching hers send a fiery heat through my body, the point at which my skin connects with her the only thing saving me from sobbing.
But she shakes her head.
“You’ll just have to figure it out,” she said serenely, and she stood up to pull the lawnmower cord.
It starts on the first try, and for a second she looks at me, glee on her face, a big, wide smile making her dimples pop out as she wrinkles her freckled nose at me.
“We did it!”
It’s a moment of unexpected, breathless joy amongst my pain, and Delilah seemed to realize it, because she composed herself immediately.
“I’m going to get in the pool,” she said, and started walking over.
Argh.
Watching Delilah walk away was both the best and worst thing in the world. The best because I got a perfect view of her phenomenal ass. And she was definitely determined to taunt me. That was obvious as she shimmied out of her jeans shorts to get in the pool, her round, curvy ass filling out that navy blue bikini perfectly. My mouth went dry as I saw the outlines of her cheeks as she adjusted the strings on the side.
Oh my god, I wanted to carry her to my room, pull those strings, bare her beautiful body to me, run kisses down her soft little belly, lick that round ass.
Delilah pulled off her shirt, stretching as she did so that her back arched, her perky little breasts pressed in the air.
My cock twitched in my pants. I was desperate for any sign that Delilah was relenting, but oh my God, I would pawn my crown a million times over for another night with her.
It was a pleasure to watch Delilah move, but I hated her walking away from me. I couldn’t tell if I was any closer to convincing my wife to give me another chance and time was running out. The month was almost over.
I had to cling onto the tiny fragile threads of hope I had.
For a moment, I thought I might have detected a slight change in her breath when our fingers touched. Did she feel the same spark I did, the same connection and electricity between us?
It was agony not to know.
I walked over to the pool, pulling my own soaked shirt off, seeing if Delilah would look over at me. She didn’t, and maybe I was just a desperate idiot, but I thought I saw her make a little shiver as I dove into the sparkling blue waters.