Page 24 of Bloody Wedding (The Order of the Owed #1)

FIFTEEN

HEAT WAVE

LONI

I have never, ever known Adrian to apologize. That, more than anything, makes me wonder if the last ten years changed him as much as it had me.

I’d hoped so. I didn’t want to think that he was the same bully he once was, and considering my first impression of twenty-eight-year-old Adrian was an angel with a handgun, murdering one of his oldest friends in cold blood, I was terrified that he changed for the worse .

But an apology? When that came through my phone, I was so stunned, I figured it had to be AI or something. Like he asked a computer to sit out someone else’s words and then he passed them off on his own.

So I checked. I ran it through an AI checker, a plagiarism checker, and even Google. Nope. Unless he handed his phone off to someone else—and I’ve seen how possessive of it he is, so I doubt it—those were Adrian’s own words.

I want to believe he meant them. At least then that would justify the second chance I gave him.

I figured the next Monday would be the real test. Sure, he brought me home a bouquet of flowers as a more visible apology, and we’ve still sat down to every meal together when he’s home… and the kisses… whenever the craving hit for a cigarette, he was right there, demanding his due.

But that’s as far as he’s gone. As though he really understood the power his body wields over mine, he’s been careful not to use it again. I was hesitant to trust him the next time I was duty-bound to join him in his bed, but apart from spooning me after I fell asleep, he was the perfect gentleman.

He even wore pajama pants again, a wordless peace offering for me that I accepted with a hesitant smile.

We’ve been falling into an easy rhythm since then. There are moments when I remember that this wasn’t my choice, that in a world without the Order, I wouldn’t have been forced into marrying my childhood bully… and there are moments when I struggle to separate this Adrian from the boy he once was.

Tonight is Monday again. We’ve had a good few days.

Dad came over for dinner on Thursday. That was…

interesting. In a way, I think he wanted to make sure that I was doing just fine.

That, or he finally realized I’d been ducking his calls and he was being a pretty shitty dad, leaving to Adrian Heller’s mercy after he, you know, killed a guy.

I didn’t realize how lonely I was until Dad came by.

I’ve had a few conversations with Mrs. Gammond when our paths cross on the days she’s here, but other than that, the only other person I’ve seen is my husband.

If Adrian’s not spending long days at the office, he’s finishing his work in his third-floor study.

I thought I was a workaholic, but long after I close the lid on my laptop, he’s still at it.

I will say, he does find a couple of hours for me every day.

I’ve learned he has a fondness for watching the same sort of cooking shows I do; that’s how he taught himself to cook, he tells me, and I’m only a little jealous that I can still barely hold a knife.

A couple of funny sitcoms snag his attention, too, and we catch a couple after dinner before we head to our respective bedrooms.

He invites me to join him in the gym, but I pass. He likes to work out, I like to read, and as long as he knows that I’m safely inside of the house, he doesn’t have to be up my ass every minute he’s home.

However, the time we are together just reiterates how lonely I am otherwise. Being back in Harmony Heights doesn’t help. I used to have friends here, a closer family, neighbors that I grew up around. These days? I just have Adrian.

Is it any wonder that I regard my positive feelings for him as some kind of Stockholm Syndrome? I mean, seriously… I should not be as giddy as I was that the bastard had the decency to send an apology text after pushing past my boundaries the night before.

And now it’s Monday again. I was in a good mood, but after Adrian disappears after dinner, forgoing our TV time to take care of something for Jack Collins, I’m back on the ‘Adrian Heller can jump off a bridge and I wouldn’t even be sad’ train.

Especially when he presses a kiss to the top of my head, reminds me that he’ll join me in bed when he’s done, then leaves the house while I’m still fucking stuck here.

I could leave. I have a phone. My own cash. A debit card. Nothing is stopping me from grabbing a ride—taxi or otherwise—across town to get my car. I could … and yet I don’t, and I try not to look too closely at that.

Instead of heading to his room, I stay in the living room, watching the big screen television while keeping an ear cocked for Adrian’s return.

Even after I start nodding off a little, the show I put on doing nothing to keep my attention, I stubbornly stay put.

Only when I feel like I’ve been stood up do I finally curse under my breath and head upstairs.

Once again, my stupid brain forgets to turn off. Even though I did everything I could think of short of taking a sleeping pill, I’m still wide fucking awake when Adrian slips into the room.

When he sees that I’m awake, he flips the switch that turns on the dimmer light. It’s enough that he can see me without searing my retinas with the stronger one, but when he gets a good look at me, he slaps the wall, triggering the brighter light.

“What’s this?”

“Leave me alone, Adrian. It’s too hot for me to put up with your shit tonight.”

It is, and if I want to blame the fact that heat rises for my crappy mood instead of him returning back to the house when it’s almost eleven o’clock, that’s fine.

Because I don’t feel abandoned, why do you ask?

And I didn’t decide to go to bed naked because I wanted him to regret leaving me alone this long, either…

Two weeks ago, there was a heat wave in Harmony Heights.

We hit mid-nineties, and I was glad that Adrian kept the air conditioning cranking as high as he did.

It would be humid and soupy and hot if I went outside.

I used the nasty temperatures as another excuse why I didn’t leave, knowing full well that I was avoiding the gossips in town more than anything.

It only lasted a couple of days. I should’ve remembered that the end of June is really only the beginning of summer in Harmony Heights because now that we just celebrated the Fourth of July a couple of days ago—when I joined Adrian in the back of the house, watching the fireworks from the park only a few streets down from where he…

we… live—summer decided to make a vicious comeback.

Thermometers outside reached a hundred degrees. The heat index? We’re talking one-ten, minimum, and even Adrian’s power and money meant shit when the AC got overloaded.

It’s hot. It’s brutal outside, but even inside…

I’m hot. I didn’t even try to climb under the heavy comforter.

I grabbed a sheet from the linen closet down the hall instead, using that as a covering.

Beneath it? I’m butt ass naked, and from the way his gaze has zeroed in on the length of leg poking out from under the thin sheet, he knows it.

And, yet, even though it’s so much hotter in here than it has been, he looks like a sinful devil in his tailored suit.

Seeing that I’ve already stripped, Adrian starts to do the same. He kicks off his shoes first. The jacket goes next. As he starts to unbutton his dress shirt, he offers, “I could crank up the AC.”

“I already tried. This is as cool as it’s going to get.”

He pauses. “A fan? Would a fan help?”

Probably not. “Don’t listen to me. It’s not that bad.

I just got used to your house being like an igloo so now that it’s a little warmer, I’m bitching.

Sex would be a bad idea right now,” I add, just in case he starts thinking that a naked Loni means a horny Loni…

and he’d be right, but I’m still pissed about being left alone so, yeah, that’s going to be a no from me.

“But if we’re just laying here, it’s alright. ”

“So you’re not overheated already?”

I should’ve known that there was a reason he’s asking, but the way he immediately showed concern for me made me more uncomfortable than I want to admit. “Not really.”

“Good.”

Adrian finishes getting undressed. Since I’m naked—and, whoa, and I’m regretting that boldness a bit now that he’s here?—

“My body heat too much for you?”

Prick. “I’ll be fine.”

“I might not be.” He strokes my shoulder with the tip of his pointer finger. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, princess?”

Kind of, and it might even be on purpose. Not like I’m going to tell Adrian that… though odds are he definitely knows. “I’m just trying to go to sleep.”

“You got to sleep last Monday.”

Uh-oh. Danger, danger, Loni. “And now I want to sleep this Monday.”

“You could… or…”

“Or what?”

His grin is full of wicked promise. “Just remember what I said two Mondays ago. Okay?”

Huh?

“Adrian. You’re confusing me.”

“So? You’re tempting me.”

Yeah… this was a mistake. Even so, I play dumb. “To do what?”

“This.”

He throws his leg over me, the head of his cock nudging me in the thigh.

He nips the edge of my jaw. The heat of his mouth sears me down to my core; his weight coupled with his dick sliding upward so that it’s nestled in the fold of my groin has me desperate to shift my position so that the head would accidentally slip inside.

Just the tip …

Suddenly, I’m seventeen again. He could fuck me so easily, but Adrian Heller never needed to work to convince me to open my legs to him then.

Now? He forced me to marry him. He made me his prisoner, whether that was his intent or not.

I’m at his mercy, just like I always used to be, only I don’t have to be.

I start to wiggle out from under him.

A possessive hand lands on my hip. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“My side of the bed,” I snap.

His face turns stricken for all of two seconds before he smirks. “Sorry.” He’s so not sorry. “You said you were hot. I was just outside. The temp in here isn’t that bad, but I got it wrong, didn’t I? It’s not the heat wave getting you hot. It’s the way you react to me, isn’t it?”

Is he fucking kidding me?

I glare at him.

His smirk widens into a flat-out dare.

I take a deep breath.

It’s that smirk.

That fucking smirk.

Part of me is willing to do anything to erase that smirk off of his handsome face.

The other part? It wants to touch him. Kiss him.

Fuck him. It’s the same part I was unable to resist when we were in high school, and I hate that all it takes is his naked body and that goddamn smirk to get a reaction out of me.

And, oh, does he get one.

Reaching low, never once looking away from him, I grab his dick.

Well, I got rid of the smirk. Then again, the way my palm wraps around his erection… the way his body jolts and his pale green eyes deepen… the sharp breath and the sudden need and desire he can’t quite hide… I release him, but it’s too late.

I’m suddenly Pandora and, oh, did I just open up a box.

“What was that? Here.” He shifts his hips toward me. “Do it again.”

I shake my head.

“Go on.” He grips his dick, wagging it at me. “You want to. I know you do. Take it, Loni.”

He’s not wrong.

I fist my fingers. “That was a mistake.”

Adrian’s jaw goes tight. “It wasn’t.”

“Forget it?—”

His hand lashes out. He circles my wrist, tugging me closer. “I won’t.”

I gulp. “Let go of my hand, Adrian.”

He hesitates for a moment before flexing his fingers, taking his hand back so that mine lands easily on the mattress.

I sit up, hurriedly putting some space between him.

A muscle tics in his cheek. “Get back here.”

I shake my head. “We can’t do this.”

“Why the fuck not?”

I… I don’t know. Like, I know there’s a reason why I need to resist him when I’ve never been able to before, but with his enticing dick right there, and the persuasive lilt to his voice, and my body wanting nothing more than to be close to his…

“I told you. It’s hot.”

His eyes spark. “That’s right. You did. You also said if you just laid down, you’d be fine. So, come on, princess. Why don’t you lie down?”

It’s a trap. I’m not sure why I’m so certain of that fact, but it’s a trap.

Even so, I slowly ease myself backward until my head is on the pillow, my back on the bed, the sheet adjusted so that my tits and ass aren’t on display for Adrian to look his fill. I completely forgot just how naked I was before, but after that exchange… I’m intimately aware of that fact.

I frown.

He sees.

“What are you thinking, Loni? Tell your husband. I want to know.” And then, to my shock, he shifts closer to me, brushing aside the sheet covering my body. Boldly, swiftly, he thumbs my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure throughout me before I can even duck his touch. “Fuck it. I need to know.”

Trust me, he doesn’t.

What am I thinking?

I’m thinking about how I thought I could resist him, but I can’t.

I’m thinking about how I would’ve given anything to be right where I am now, but that was ten years ago.

Today? I know it’s Monday. I know the Order has all these ridiculous rules.

But if I stay in this bed and he decides he wants to fuck me?

I’m going to fuck him.

I don’t know why I’m depriving myself. I failed when I was seventeen, but I’ve since learned to separate the physical act of sex from love and affection for the person I’m sleeping with.

True, I usually feel something for a guy if I’m willing to go to bed with him, and there’s no denying that the chemistry between Adrian and me is as electric as it once was, but it’s not like I’m declaring my undying love for him if I let him fuck me.

Right?

Besides, I am his wife. For better or for worse, I’m stuck. Adrian told me he won’t go to one of the Used. He’s not going to keep his hands to himself forever, and if he won’t, why should I?

But I have to. Because while I can divorce sex from love, in the two weeks that I’ve been Adrian’s wife, I’ve begun to think that he can’t.

So what am I thinking?

Maybe it’s my turn to tell him the truth.

“I hate how much I want to touch you,” I spit out at last.