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He left their room to sleep in another bed? After she had poured her soul out to him? Right after they had made love? A knife to the chest would have hurt less.
The man has a right to a good night’s sleep.
Since when did you become so reasonable?
He’s probably just tired.
Or maybe it was the beginning of the end of her marriage. She was going to end up like her mother. Sleeping in separate beds, stocking up on booze, and ending up hating her husband.
A good wife would be considerate of her husband’s needs. In fact, a really good wife would make him a hearty breakfast the next morning.
She jumped off the bed and opened the door to where Hector was sleeping. Though ‘threw open’ would be more truthful.
He jack-knifed up in the bed. “Mary? Everything okay? Is Zoe—?”
“No, Hector. No, I’m not okay!” See? She sounded perfectly calm. “I’m hurt because you left our bed with some lame ass excuse.”
He cocked an eyebrow and opened his mouth.
“If you’re going to comment on me cursing, I swear to God, I will hurt you!”
His mouth closed.
“I want you to tell me the truth. Why don’t you want to sleep with me? Is it because of what I told you?”
“Look, you need to calm down—”
“I’m perfectly calm!” Okay, this time she could hear herself shriek. Thank God Zoe slept like the dead. “I’m not my mother!”
His eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. A slow burn was starting to shimmer in his gorgeous eyes, that promised her retribution.
She suddenly realized that she might have let out another curse. Or two. Or three. Who was keeping count anyway? She wasn’t. Not with the prospect of ending up like her mom.
“In my family, difficult subjects were never discussed. They were shoved under the carpet. We all lived by my grandfather’s rules. Even my father, no,especiallymy father. I think part of him hated being an in-law to a powerful man. He didn’t have much say over his own family. See, he wanted a homebody housewife, but my mother liked to go out with friends and leave us to the nannies. When my father died, she just left, to ‘live her life in freedom,’ as she told me directly to my face. My grandfather knew she wasn’t mother material and didn’t try to stop her. He just changed our last name to his, because he wanted us to feel like family, and also because he had zero respect for my father. I see my mom once a year, during Christmas. There are a million things I want to talk to her about, but I know she’ll never let me. She doesn’t talk about things that make her feel uncomfortable, and I have to abide by her rules, because she’s my mother. In a way, we will never be equals. But I will be damned if I will live like that with you! I deserve better. I deserve more than a fuck after I tell you about something that shaped me irrevocably. I at least deserve to be cuddled, dammit!”
“Has it occurred to you that maybe I wanted to sleep apart to protect you?”
His voice was more of a growl, and she could see his hands clench, as if he was barely hanging on. Well, tough.
She laughed, though it wasn’t a happy sound. “You want to protect my fragile little body? Or do you want to protect your own? I think it’s the latter. Let me tell you that I’ve never been so disappointed in my life. I must have married an old man for you to need a break after just one good fuck.” For good measure, she added a few choice words.
When he jumped off the bed, she slapped her hands over her mouth.
“Too late,chica.” He stalked over to her, like a wolf closing in on his prey.
Just in case, she took a step back.
Maybe two steps.
Was that the wall hitting her butt?
“You know, my Italian’s a bit rusty, but notthatrusty,” Hector growled. “Maybe you forgot I was practically raised with Italians. I’m pretty sure you just called me an old bull ready to be taken to the pasture. I’m also damn sure that was an insult to my”—his eyes roamed her body—“manliness.”
“Um, maybe we should further discuss this in the morning.” She tried to circumvent him, but he planted his hands on the wall on either side of her head, boxing her in.
“No. Let’s talk about thisnow. See, I have this sudden itchy feeling in my hands, and I don’t think I can just get back to sleep.”
She swallowed. “Because of your itchy fingers?”