Chapter 12
Twelve
James
I f I thought she hated me before, it has nothing on how much she must actually hate me now. I find myself chuckling after she slams the bathroom door. I lean back in bed, tucking my arm behind my head and think to myself, what a beautiful fuckin’ woman. She could hate me all she wants, it doesn’t make me want her any less. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.
As I hear the shower starting up, I decide to go down the hall and use the other bathroom to shower myself. Slipping under the warm fall of water, I can’t help but to think about our time last night. Some part of Em must want me, and that part probably being her body. I think her heart is on the way to wanting me as well, but I think it’s her brain that is at war with itself. I felt her eyes soften at the wedding, that much is not a delusion. But she goes from hot to cold, hate to some semblance of like, before settling on a cold hate. Last night I was at least able to see past the cold exterior she puts up like a metal barrier against me.
She’s exquisite when she drops her shields and comes undone for me, though. What I wouldn’t give to see her come again, preferably on my tongue. I know I can’t push her like I did last night. She has settled back into her hate for me, and it will take all the hope I can muster to start chipping away at that and bring forth any emotion other than hate. Hell, at this point, I’d even take dislike over what she gives me currently.
Once I’m done rinsing the lathers from my body, I turn off the shower and climb out, grabbing the towel from the hook to dry myself off. Not really sure what our plans are for today, I dress in a simple pair of black slacks and a button-up white shirt. I place all our dirty clothes into the chute, sensing she will want her clothes washed seeing that she probably only brought enough clothes to last a week. Knowing that Emilia must be hungry from last night, I head down to the kitchen, pulling out all of the breakfast necessities. I grab the eggs, bacon, bread, and fruit, and start cooking. I’m usually not one for eating breakfast, but I made sure to have the staples considering that we would be spending the week at the house.
It isn’t long before I hear her soft footsteps joining me in the kitchen. Looking over my shoulder, I see that she has taken a seat at the island bar, looking at the food expectantly.
“Hungry?”
“Starving actually.”
“Good. Should be ready here in a few minutes.”
“I didn’t realize that you cooked, James. Thought you would have had a hired chef or something to do that for you.”
“Well, I do, but my chef is normally only here to cook dinners. Besides, I gave him the week off, since we would be spending the week here at the house, on a stay-at-home honeymoon, so to speak.”
“Of course you did,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Now, now. I still know how to cook, I won’t leave you to your own devices. I am your husband after all, and I will provide for you, including making sure you’re fed.”
I throw the towel over my shoulder and plate the food for her, adding a small bowl of fresh fruit to her tray along with a glass of orange juice.
“Here you are, Mrs. Stonewell. Breakfast is served,” I say as I lay the tray out in front of her. I grab my own plate and my tea and seat myself at the bar across from her. She looks at me through her lashes, before she picks up her fork and starts to eat.
What I wouldn’t give to know her thoughts right this second.
We eat in comfortable silence, each seemingly lost in our own thoughts. This woman has been my obsession for many years, and finally I have her as my wife. I’ve watched her grow these past seven years, and each time we’ve met she’s been a little more mature, and even more beautiful. Never in a million years would I have thought this would be my life someday.
The sun streams into the kitchen, catching her hair that she tossed up in a messy ponytail, highlighting the different shades of chestnut. It’s absolutely beautiful. What’s even more beautiful are her eyes when the light catches them, showing off the ring of caramel around her pupil. Everything about her is breathtaking.
“What are you looking at?” she asks as she catches me staring, fork halfway to her mouth. Oops.
“Just looking at how beautiful you look in the sunlight, love. The way the sun brings out all the different depths to your hair, and how your eyes absolutely shine.”
“James…” she trails off, looking away from me. What is my spitfire thinking?
“Sorry. I can’t help myself, you’re stunning, you know that?”
“You don’t have to flatter me to distract me, James. Are we going to talk about last night or not?”
“What is there to possibly talk about?”
“Stop distracting me, James. What happened last night can’t happen again!”
“And why is that? Afraid you enjoyed it too much, hmm?”
“James, we only got married to save me from the Romanis. We have to keep up the facade in public, but that doesn’t have to extend into our private lives.”
“I beg to differ. We are married, I’ll be damned if we don’t enjoy it while we have it.”
“And if I don’t want it?”
I stalk toward her around the island, never breaking eye contact. Her eyes narrow as she takes me in, a challenge warring in her caramel eyes.
Stepping alongside her, I pick up one of the large strawberries from her bowl and take a large, juicy bite.
“You know, you taste just as sweet as this berry, love.”
Her pupils dilate, and she crosses her legs. I take the strawberry from my mouth and hold it up to hers. “Here, take a bite and taste just how sweet you are to me.”
She shakes her head in answer, but I’m not having that. I grab the back of her neck, holding her in place, while I bring the strawberry to her mouth again.
“I’m not going to ask again. Take. A. Bite.”
With defiance in her gaze, she leans forward slightly and takes a bite of the strawberry. Her eyes close of their own accord, and when they open again, there is very little color to be seen in them.
“That’s better. See how good you taste. I would give anything to be tasting you right this second, Emilia.”
“James…” She trails off, uncertainty in her words.
“I won’t though, Emilia. The next time I taste you, it’ll be because you begged for it,” I say as I release my grip on her neck and move back around to the other side of the island, gathering up my plate and placing it in the sink.
I feel her gaze upon my back, and when I turn around, she’s glaring daggers at me, breathing heavily.
“In your dreams, James. I won’t be begging you for anything, so help me god.” She sets her fork and napkin down, standing suddenly.
“Thank you for breakfast, but I really would like to leave.”
“And where do you think you’re going, exactly?”
“Anywhere but here…”
Seeing that she needs time to herself, I simply nod my head. Opening my kitchen drawer, I pull out a spare set of keys and toss them to her. I have a tracker in that vehicle and in the key fob which I put in once I knew I was marrying her. So while I hate to send her off on her own, I will at least know her whereabouts should anything happen.
“The car you lent me is still in the garage. Take it and go where you must, but please be safe. And please check in with me.”
“Fine. I’ll be back before dinner.”
She takes the keys, and my heart, with her when she leaves, leaving behind only silence.