Page 22 of The Souls We Claim

And that’s when I know I’m gonna kill that cunt of a husband. “Accidents happen. Like I already told you, I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in anger, kitten.” I feel like now isn’t the time to tell her that Ihavesoundly spanked a woman, with her permission, for pleasure. “I appreciate you making me breakfast. Nice feeling to have someone looking out for me. And I bought this table because it was easy to clean. So go serve up that breakfast that smells fucking delicious, and I’ll take care of the spill.”

If I had a magic wand, I’d get rid of the distrust she has of me. It’s not personal, I know. It’s ingrained. Tells me that whatever was going on at home was way worse than what she’s told me or than what I imagined.

Seeing she isn’t gonna believe me yet, I stand and get some paper towels to clean the coffee up. When I return to the table, she’s still standing there, a look of confusion on her face, like she can’t believe what just happened.

“Arianne.” Her name comes out on a growl, which I’m sure is less than helpful. “Breakfast.”

She jumps at her name and scurries to the counter, where she starts whipping things out of the oven while I clean up the spill. It takes a few minutes before everything is placed in front of me. “It’s a tomato and caramelized onion frittata. But in case you didn’t like it, I also made bacon and sausage and whipped up a quick batch of banana pancakes.” She’s wringing her hands, and her shoulders are up by her ears. “We can use anything we don’t eat as leftovers.”

“Get a plate. Take a seat. And we’re gonna eat this amazing spread. And then you and I are gonna talk.” When she blanches, I curse. “Not that kind of talk. One where you and I figure out what we’re gonna do about Lola and you.”

She lets out a breath, then rolls her neck from side to side. “Okay. What can I serve you, Halo?”

And…just like that, my cock is back in bed, ready for her to climb on top of me. “That sounds good coming from your pretty mouth,” I say before I realize it.

I’m about to apologize when I see the slight hint of pink hit her cheeks and her bite down her lower lip to hold back the fixing of a smile.

None of it does anything to help the boner the table thankfully hides.

“All of it, please,” I say.

“All of it?”

“Yeah. A serving of everything. I’m a growing guy.” Especially my cock right now. “What can I say?”

She serves me up a generous helping of everything and places it in front of me. Within two bites, I know Arianne can cook. I shovel forkful after forkful into my mouth like I haven’t tasted food in days. Crisp bacon, tender sausage, pancakes that literally melt in my mouth.

“This all tastes so good,” I tell her once she’s served up a small plate of cut-up pancakes and eggs to Lola and a plate for herself.

“Thank you. I used to enjoy cooking.”

There’s a wistful tone to her words. “Used to?”

“Before…before the stress of cooking for Patrick.”

“What made it stressful?”

“All of it. If it wasn’t served on time. If it wasn’t hot enough. If it was too spicy. If there was too much. If there wasn’t enough. He hated waste. Said I was irresponsible with money if we had to throw things out.”

“Well, Patrick’s a cunt if he didn’t thank you for making it and enjoy what you put in front of him, because this is amazing.”

She puts a hand over her mouth and chuckles.

“What?” I ask.

“Well, I’ve never heard Patrick summed up quite so succinctly. He is…that.”

“A cunt?”

She nods. “Yeah. That.”

I put my knife and fork down for a second. “You ever call him that? Out loud?”

“God. No. If I even rolled my eyes at him, he’d have…” The smile disappears, and she blows out a breath.

“Say it.” My words are firm. She seems to respond to those best. Like they cut through the noise and bullshit for her.

“Say what?”