Chapter 7 Bunny - Two and a half years ago
Two and a half years ago
Soapy suds fly through the air as I whirl around to face Nathaniel, remembering the restaurant Hunter recommended earlier. “Oh! I forgot—Hunter told me there’s a place on Bleeker Street with great arancini. I know it’s your favorite, so I thought maybe we could go this weekend?”
My husband raises a blond brow, arms crossed as he leans against the fridge and assesses me coolly. “Hunter, huh? You know… Hunter’s been recommending a lot of places lately. As a matter of fact, Bunny, you’ve come home nearly every night this week talking about Hunter.”
His umber eyes narrow as my cheeks heat, dread pooling in my gut like ice water. I turn back to the dishes, forcing a shrug, feigning nonchalance. “We’ve just been paired up for a lot of assignments lately. It’s just small talk.”
It takes everything in me not to flinch when the heavy heat of him closes in behind me. His tanned, meaty hands plant on either side of me, his gaudy gold-and-diamond wedding band glinting like a warning flare.
Danger.
I know better than to mention another man around him. Just working at all challenges his old-school ideals—if he knew the full extent of what I do, I’m sure he’d lock me up and throw away the key.
Nathaniel Jones does whatever—and whoever—he wants, whenever he wants. And I’m supposed to be the good little housewife who caters to his every whim, has dinner ready when he gets home, and pops out babies he can emotionally and verbally bludgeon into trauma-laced adulthood.
If I’d known that was what I was signing up for, I would’ve stayed at Hooters and waited for a real Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet.
Someone like Hunter Remington.
“I know that gleam in your eye you get when you talk about him, Bunny. You used to look at me that way.” His tall frame curves over me, pressing me into the counter as he roughly nips my ear.
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the absence of your wedding band.
You swore to me you’d start wearing it. Are you cheating on me, dear wife? ”
“What?! No! I told you, I’m afraid to ruin it. Or lose it.” My reply is breathless as he reaches down to hike up the skirt of my pink paisley dress. Only it’s not from lust. My body doesn’t melt under his touch anymore. It locks up, like a trapped animal, brain scrambling for escape.
I’m about to remind him that even though it’s behind closed doors, I know he’s screwing his secretary—but my words die when his large palm wraps around my throat and squeezes.
“Why would you lose it if you weren’t taking it off? Do I need to remind you that you belong to me?”
Tears sting my lashes as the sound of his zipper splits the air. His grip tightens before yanking me forward, forcing my head down as he rips my underwear aside and shoves himself roughly inside me.
No foreplay. No prepping me for his size. Just the sharp, stinging burn of him taking what he wants until my body betrays me and readies itself to dull the pain.
Nathaniel has always been sexually aggressive. It didn’t bother me when we met—in fact, I liked it, at first. I’ve never minded a little biting, a little pinching, a handprint that lingers for a few hours.
Then the bites became tooth imprints.
The pinches left bruises.
The pulling once left a bald spot that’s still growing back.
And lately? The handprints, though hidden, last closer to a week.
I’ve become one of those women.
The ones who know they should leave, but don’t.
Who have the resources to put their abuser behind bars… but don’t.
Because at the end of the day, I still love my husband, even if I hate his ideas of what marriage should be.
Nathaniel had a rough life, just like I did.
Only, instead of bouncing through foster homes, he had a dad who beat the shit out of him and his brother.
I understand his need for control. And I foolishly pushed him here by bringing up Hunter so many times.
Sweet, brazen Hunter—who always makes me laugh. Who’s convinced he can get me to date him.
Because he doesn’t know I’m married.
My husband has quiet affairs all the time. Hunter is the only man who’s ever made me even consider doing the same.
“I don’t want to hear you say his name again. Do you understand me?” Nathaniel grits out, tightening his grip on my throat as he shoves my head further into the sink until my hair slips into the soapy water. “I will not be made a fool of. Especially in my own house.”
“I’m sorry.” Despite the crushing pressure at my airway, I force the words out on a moan, trying to lace it with fake sensuality. Trying to make him think I’m enjoying it. It’s rare for him to leave visible marks, but his grip promises bruises I’ll have to hide.
“You will not embarrass me, Bunny.” His words come in shuddering gasps, his cock twitching as he nears release.
I want to fight. To scream and demand to know why he gets to fuck whoever he wants while I can’t even speak to another man. Why he married me if he never wanted a wife.
Instead, I stay still. Dissociated. Pliant and pleasing, while I think of another man’s hands on me.
Gentler hands. Warmer eyes.
Curly hair, glasses, and a cocksure grin that promises a world better than this.
Then again… that’s how it started with my husband, too.
Kinder. Gentler.
Nathaniel finishes, his grip loosening as he tucks himself back into his pants. He turns me around, clucking his tongue like he’s scolding a child. He even looks sympathetic.
“Look what you made me do, baby. You made me lose my temper again,” he coos, smoothing my wet hair back from my face.
“I’m sorry.” It’s become my motto these past months. He’s always had a heavy hand, but nothing like lately. And it’s my fault—for letting Hunter affect me.
Stupid. Sloppy.
“If you’re sorry, then you’ll quit working.” His wide palm splays over my belly, making my insides roil as I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. “I think it’s time we started a family, anyway. Don’t you? That’s what we talked about, right?”
Numbly, I nod as he wipes the tears from my face.
“You know I hate hurting you, Bunny. I love you and I want what’s best for you.
This Hunter guy…” He shakes his head, rubbing my biceps in what he probably thinks is a comforting gesture.
“...he doesn’t seem like good news. Always around.
Always putting ideas in your head. I have half a mind to march down to the department and demand they keep him away from you. ”
I blow out a slow breath. “He’s just given us some recommendations, Nathaniel.” I don’t mention that they were all places he said he wanted to take me.
Why should I feel guilty for entertaining Hunter’s flirting when my husband cheats constantly?
But the threat of him finding out what I actually do for the police has my claws coming out.
“And if you don’t want me working with him anymore,” I add coolly, “maybe be a little more careful with Heidi when you’re at the office.”
His hands still. My words land sharp, exactly where I aimed. But he surprises me.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I blink.
My husband doesn’t apologize.
He never tells me I’m right.
Warm fingers trace my throat before he dips and presses a chaste kiss over the tender flesh. The words that follow make my stomach turn.
“I’ll be sure to keep my affairs better hidden from now on.”
Hunter
“Bunny Jones! Light of my life, stealer of my heart, my little anime-loving hellraiser. I watched that show you suggested—Future Diary… you are one twisted little soul, aren’t you?”
My lungs tighten as the woman of my dreams rounds the corner. She wasn’t in the briefing we just had, though that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve become acutely aware of her missing presence this past week.
It’s been months, and still my heart does a little dance whenever I see her. She brightens my day without even trying. I never believed in love at first sight before, but actually getting to know Bunny just affirmed what my body knew before the rest of me caught up.
Little Hunter was ahead of the game. And why wouldn’t he be? She’s a fucking bombshell. But it didn’t take long for my brain and heart to fall in line.
We’re opposites in almost every way—and that’s half the reason I can’t stop orbiting her.
“Hunter Remington, bane of my existence. Purveyor of lurid delusions regarding us.” She walks past, clutching a book to her chest as she heads for the exit.
See? Always such a ray of sunshine.
“Whatcha reading?” I swing an arm around her shoulders—hard to do when she’s so short I have to dip my upper body—and pluck the book from her hands. The cover shows a faceless man and a pumpkin. It’s not even close to Halloween.
“Only One Night by A.R. Rose.” I blow a raspberry, scanning the blurb. “This guy looks like a stalker. So tell me… what’s appealing about him?”
Snatching it back, she laughs and smacks my chest with her literary weapon. “It’s a self-insert, which is hot. It’s really good.”
“What’s self-insert?”
Color blooms across her cheeks, highlighting the freckles I’m obsessed with. I’ve made it my personal mission to memorize every constellation of them. I hope it takes me a lifetime.
“It means I can dream about a hot guy breaking into my house and having his wicked way with me.” Her eyes spark as her brows jerk up.
Waggling mine, I tug her closer. A tangible heat flares between us as we come to a stop in the hall. “Would you like me to break in and tie you up, Little Rabbit? That can be arranged.”
“In your dreams, Remington.”
“Oh, yes. Definitely in my dreams, Bunny. But one day, you’re gonna cave. Then they’ll be reality. I’m too persistent to keep saying no to. Once I see something I want, I don’t quit until it’s mine.”
The corner of her lips quirks despite herself—just as Ryan Jacobs, the officer who should’ve made detective with me, passes by and snorts. “Yeah, he does whatever he has to, to get it, too.”