I roused to clattering serving plates and my wife's murmuring sotto voce. Peeling one eye open, I watched Alexa convey a concoction of exotic fruits into the master bedroom: warm pastries and black coffee. Balancing the tray on the bedside table, she tweaked the colourful presentation and stood back, tapping her chin to conclude missing items, it seems. Her slender, mile-long legs beckoned my touch. I reached out languidly and smoothed my palm upwards until her lace-clad derrière fell into my palm, and I squeezed, ever so softly, which prompted her hazel-coloured hues to narrow in feigned disapproval.
Repositioning onto my back, I stretched my legs, tucked my crossed arms underneath my head and awaited her nearness. The neckline of her T-shirt draped from one shoulder, and she corrected it before sitting cross-legged beside me. Plucking purple grapes from the contorted stem, she leaned in and popped one in my mouth. Sweet flavours coated my tongue. I chewed until watermelon chunks replaced the grapes and torn pastry layers traded the melons.
Satisfied by my compliance, Alexa ditched breakfast to lower the satin bedspread. Then, briefly inspecting the bandages around my abdomen, ensuring fresh blood hadn't surfaced, she folded her hands on her lap and stared deep into my eyes.
What's bothering you, baby?
Wearing her affection on her sleeve, she closed the meagre gap between us to run her fingers through my hair. I caught her wrist, pulled her arm towards the tray and, with her hand caged beneath mine, coaxed two strawberries into her palm. Her hesitant fingers curled around them. Her cheeks redder than the fruit, she brought one to her mouth, nibbled small bites and tongued sweet-tasting juices from her bottom lip.
Softly, I tugged on her necklace, and she snuggled closer to rest her head on my arm. I set the bowl of blueberries between us and forced her to eat with me. "Ladies first," I rasped, inhaling the rose-scented shampoo from her damp, unruly hair.
Alexa kissed my chin. "Are you in any pain?"
I ached everywhere. I'll survive, though.
Lifting blueberries to her mouth, I waited for her lips to part and then asked, "Any updates on Vincent?"
"He's stable," she said over a mouthful, absentmindedly tucking into the bowl for extra portions. "Your men text every hour to keep us informed."
Unable to ignore the throbbing in my head, I rubbed the grogginess from my eyes and kissed my wife's shoulder. "Where's the boy?"
"In his room." Her face looked pained. "I thought we had a breakthrough the night he tried to leave. We cried together. Held each other. But he hates me, Liam."
"Logan doesn't hate you." My thumb circled her jutted out hipbone. "He's testing my patience, though. I'll give him that." Throwing the duvet aside, I dragged my legs out of bed and stood on unbalanced feet. Allowing the blood to flow downward, I disregarded the soreness in my side and headed for the door. "Let me handle the insolent fucker."
"Liam." Alexa chased me down the hallway. "Get back to bed." She seized my elbow, and I stopped respectfully but would not obey. "Logan's scared of you. If you go in his room, you will only make matters ten times worse."
"Affirmative." My eyes toured her features. "Fear is the precession of what the boy requires." Her eyes rounded as I walked ahead. "Stay out of it, Alexa. You will thank me later."
Marching to the west wing, I belted my fist against Logan's door, and when his ignorance persisted, I welcomed myself into his private space. He's snoring on the new king-size bed, the navy sheets tangled between his legs, the faux fur throw blanket precariously hanging off the mattress.
My eyebrows stretched.
The last time I came into the guest bedroom, everything was stark white. Now, though, thick, plush threads carpeted the floors, and oak-panelled furniture lined the freshly painted walls. A top-notch entertainment system brimmed the wooden dresser, the dominating sixty-inch television mounted the wall opposite his bed, and boxed footwear collected dust in the corner.
I ripped the heavy floor-length curtains aside and the morning sun filtered through the window. The sharp rays had Logan's eyes squinting. He groaned into the pillow I am about to lamp over his head and murmured something undetectable into the sheet.
Fuck his undisturbed slumber.
I stole the pillow out from under Logan's head, and his eyes snapped open, but no sooner had he spotted me, the never-ending assault of cushion striking commenced. "What the hell?" His arms flew up to shield his face, protecting himself from the unremitting blows. "Alexa!" he called, and I whacked him again until his furiousness soared. "Warren, what the fuck? Stop," I belted him, "hitting me!"
"Get up," I ordered, and the lad scuttled off the bed in disorientation. "You disrespectful piece of shit."
Logan's back is fixed to the wall. Tousled black hair irritated his sleepy eyes, and sweat trickled down his flushed chest in dews. Fixing the overturned waistband of his boxer briefs, he folded his arms to conceal himself from my condemning eyes and frequently eyed the doorway in pursuit of Alexa. We mightn't see the stealthy woman, but I know she's out there eavesdropping to be sure I don't bridge too far.
"I kindly provided a roof over your head," I said bitterly, and his loathing stare returned. "I give you luxuriousness in abundance, and you spit it back in my fucking face."
"Don't act like you did me any favours." Logan's lips grimaced. "You killed my Ma."
"Too fucking right, I whacked the bitch," I said with indifferent callousness, and his stupefied glare honed. "Am I supposed to sympathise, lad? You know what I am. You saw what I did, and you came to Manor with me regardless." I hurled the pillow onto the bed, and he flinched. "I am not here to beat you. That was your mother's job, remember?"
His face turned ashen white.
"You hate me." I shrugged uncaringly. "I would need to feel something for you to take umbrage to your fucking scorn. Alexa, however, cares too much. All the spineless, ungallant kids at the youth centre, and she chose you. Why? You are ungrateful. You are disrespectful. You. Are. Undeserving. My wife put food in your stomach, gave you free rein of the Manor and put clothes on your goddamn back, and shit's her thanks. You don't have the decency to acknowledge her kindness." Fuelled by resentment, I booted the piled boxes, and brand-new trainers strewed across the carpet. He elevated his chin in pure derision. "You will pick those up. You will take a shower. You will be escorted by a member of the syndicate and attend high school—"
"I don't go to school," Logan interrupted, and my blood shot hot. "I dropped out." His cheeks blotched in meek uncomfortableness. "You don't understand. My Ma upset a lot of people. I got tired of running."
The syndicate settled feuds between Roxanne and loan sharks; those men rot in unmarked graves alongside their errand bitches. Logan's not in fear of his life. Even if inept gangsters wanted to kill the boy, they'd know better than to step on my toes. "You're going to school."
"You're not listening to me," he argued, and my footsteps towards the door faltered. "I am a fucking loner. I hate high school. Do you know what it's like to sit alone all day, watching all the lads huddle in the canteen, laughing at your expense? Or, how it feels to be the standing joke of every girl who walks on by because they get a kick out of humiliating me? No, you couldn't possibly understand how it feels to be me." He glared sneeringly. "What's the saying? He falls in shit and comes out smelling like roses? Yeah, that's you in a fucking nutshell—"
"You better watch your mouth." I got in his face, and he cringed. "Your arrogance insults me. If you want me to feel sorry for you, lad, you'll need to do better than that. I am a product of neglect and abandonment. My father bounced the second he uncovered my mother's pregnancy. And as for her, the bitch who chose heroin over her fucking son, I stopped giving a shit the moment I realised I meant nothing to them. I toughed it. I spent the majority of my childhood in and out of the system, being thrown and tossed from one foster parent to another because no one wanted me. The streets raised me," I spat, and his brows drew in slightly. "You think I got here out of sheer luck? It was pain that made me the man I am today." He listened intently. "The difference between you and me? I didn't wallow in self-pity and wait for opportunities to fall at my feet. I was prepared to do everything to prove the world wrong." I grabbed the towel from the folded pile on the armchair and slapped it against his chest. "Now, get in the fucking shower and get your ass to school."
Logan left for school thirty minutes later.
I returned to the master bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
That's where I stayed for the rest of the day.
***
"Afternoon, Mr Warren," the district nurse sang, and I stuffed my head under the pillow. "Oh, don't worry. I'll only be here for a few minutes." I heard latex gloves snap as she wriggled them over her fingers. "Will you roll onto your back for me, please? Let's have a look at these sutures."
"Can you prescribe anything for grumpiness?" Alexa jokes and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. "Liam's impossible lately." She lifted the pillow off my head and hurled it down the bed. I peered at her from beneath my arm, and honestly, her beauty, elegance, and infectious smile, I stopped breathing. "He bites my head off every time I pop in to see if he needs anything. It's easier to leave him unaccompanied."
I love my wife. "So dramatic," I grumbled, moving onto my back to see two pairs of disapproving eyes. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I scolded the nurse, and her mouth fell open. "Well?"
"Well, indeed," the voluptuous blonde chirped, plonking her backside on the bed to examine the damage. "Healing nicely. Most of the stitches have dissolved, but I'll need to unfasten the staunches today." When the nurse visited previously, she'd eliminated the bandages and authorised light showers. "You will feel slight pressure." Cleaning the wounded area, she unzipped a leather pouch, unpackaged sterile tweezers and withdrew the first stitch. "Any discomfort?"
I slipped an arm under my head. "Do your worst."
Alexa snuggled beside me. Resting her elbow by my head, she watched the nurse work in fascination. My finger curled hair behind her ear, a gentle touch of fondness, and she veered her attention to me, the pads of her fingers outlining my eyebrow as she peppered kisses to my jawline. "Are you hungry?" she asked, and I nodded, even though I had barely any room for fodder since my wife's an overbearing feeder. If I declined, she'd forgo food, which wreaks distressing concerns. "I made homemade soup and bread."
I masked dread. "I can't wait."
Alexa headed for the kitchen.
"All set." The district nurse slipped off the gloves and signed a prescription for extra pain relief. "You can bathe now but only use unscented products for the time being." Packing her leather handbag, she stood and beelined the exit. "I'll see you next week—Mrs Warren," she called, lingering in the hallway to converse with my wife. "Did you read the information I left the last time I visited?" I missed Alexa's murmured response. "Only, I am a bit worried. Mr Warren's showing signs of depression."
Who made her a psychologist?
I am not depressed. I am fucking bored.
"Liam's fine." Alexa's clipped voice tugged a smile to my lips. "My husband's a hardworking man, and staying in bed all day, well, it's taking its toll on him. But I can assure you, the second he's back in the office, I will see a difference." Her heels clicked over the threshold. "See yourself out." Closing the door from prying eyes, she carried the tray to the bedside table and faffed with a glass of lemonade. "People irritate me."
I sat straight and accepted the bowl of beef stew. Two meat chunks floated in the centre, one or two carrots and the occasional potato. We can clearly afford vegetables, but it seems my wife skimped on additional trimmings. I spooned a mouthful. Hot and spicy burnt my tongue. I feigned approval. "This is good." Dipping overcooked bread into the watery stew, I sank my teeth into the crust and almost lost a tooth. "Fucking hell."
"What?" Devastation rounded her eyes. "Did I do something wrong? More pepper next time?"
"It's perfect." I kissed her mouth, and she audibly sighed. "What spice did you use?"
"Oh, I read an article online." Her fingers wrangled. "The blogger snubbed traditional soup, so I chopped up a few red chillies."
For appeasing purposes, I cleared the bowl and set it aside. "Where are you going?" Alexa wears a skin-tight black dress and newly purchased Ralph and Russo Eden heels with rose gold leaves. "Looking like sin, I might add." My cock stirred to life. He's received zero action lately. "Why don't you hike up the dress," I said throatily, my lips touring her neckline, "and sit on my face." My mouth salivated at the thought of my tongue teasing her cunt. "Fuck, I'm hard."
"No," she said futilely, biting her bottom lip from the sensation of my lips on her bobbing throat. "No sex. We must wait until you're fully recovered, Liam." Her hand touched my bare chest, warning me to stand down. "Besides, I have an appointment in forty-five minutes—"
"Appointment?" I asked, noting her calculated gleam. "What's on the agenda, Mrs Warren?"
"If I tell you, you have to promise to stay calm." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "I arranged a free consultation for a breast enhancement—"
"You did what?" Unstoppable ire peaked in a nanosecond. "It's not happening, Alexa."
"Liam..." Giving our debate thought, she shifted for me to climb off the bed. "Hear me out before you throw the rule book at my head. Look at me." With an expression of self-loathing, she gesticulated to her flat chest. "Breasts should grow with age. Well, I guess I am the unfortunate sod who picked the short end of the straw. Mine have retreated. I sport twosome nipples, and it's unsightly." Her arms folded on her lap. "I do not doubt your love for me, not even for a second, but surely, you'd rather a shapelier woman—"
"Stop," I berated, hating how she perceives herself. "Alexa," I dropped to one knee before her, "I love you." My palms cupped her face. "If augmenting your chest means that much to you, I will support your decision." Hope brightened her eyes. "However, if you want to do this for my benefit? From a man who loves his wife regardless of her self-doubts, I would rather you didn't." I took her slender waist in my hands. "You are quite literally the most beautiful woman I have ever met." My lips paid homage to the faded scar beneath her eye. "Who needs more than a handful? These," I rasped, dragging my thumbs over her cotton-clad nipples, "fit perfectly in my hands. After everything we have been through, how can you not realise the effect you have on me?
Alexa smiled against my lips. "So, you don't want big boobs?"
"I didn't fall in love with you because you had a flawless physique or because you dominated a room with your confidence." I held the nape of her neck. "I fell in love with you because when you entered my life, I couldn't see beyond you," I whispered to her red painted lips. "I remember thinking, what is about this girl? Why am I so drawn to her? Why am I always looking for her? Why could I imagine the unimaginable with her?" My thumb brushed her cheek. "I wanted to believe you were no different to any other woman. But you were different. You were everything I never knew I needed."
Her chest rises and falls.
"I don't need superficial, baby." Gripping her fingers, I laid a promising kiss on her wedding ring. "I need the woman who stole my heart."
"What if you change your mind?" Alexa touched her flushed neck. "What happens in ten, fifteen years' time when age starts to kick in and—"
"In ten, twenty, thirty years' time, I will love my wife just as much as I do right now." My heart thudding in response, I brought her palms to my wounded stomach. "Flaws included, remember?"
She released the breath she was holding. "Well, I better cancel the consultation, then." Her reserved expression softened. "Thank you, Liam."
"Don't ever thank me for loving you, Alexa." I flipped her over, and she squealed. "Now, let's address the sexy attire, Mrs Warren." My palms smoothed the swell of her backside. "I might need to fuck you for such wickedness."
"Liam!" Alexa rolled onto her back and glared. "Get your knee off the bed," she cautioned, and I disobeyed, capturing her thrashing legs, wrenching them around my waist as I nestled between her thighs. "You are insane. The doctor issued a sex ban—"
My lips stole the words from Alexa's mouth, and, at first, she denied me, mashing her lips together. Our tongues reacquainted. Prohibitions became an afterthought. Hiking the skirt of her dress to the waist, revealing delicate lace, I overpowered her stretched out body. Kissing her breathless, I freed my elongating cock from restrictions and stroked myself. "I want you," I said throatily, and she lost the fight to deny me. "I'll take it slow."
"Fine." Alexa's arms enveloped my shoulders. "But I am doing all the work." Onto my back, she put me, those sinful legs straddling my thighs. "Can I trust you to behave, Mr Warren?" Sliding her lace thong to the side, she peered down to watch herself engulf my readied length, and as she sank to the base, I bit back a groan, feeling the eagerness of my cock throbbing for the taking. "We might get lucky this time."
Those unmindful yet offensive words stuttered my heart.
Dormant resentfulness reawakened. "Yes."
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