For Better or Worse (3 page)

Antonio watched her in silence, but her gaze
didn’t waver. “Checking up on me?”

“Do I need to?’

“I’ve had enough of you not trusting me.”

“Why should I? You’re a man.”

His perfect wife had one flaw—her unfounded
jealousy. When they were dating, he’d thought it was cute, and since he was
just as territorial, it hadn’t bothered him. But over time, her unreasonable
accusations wore on his nerves and had become downright outlandish. Their
arguments always went in the same direction, headed along the course where she
explained to him the immorality of men and why they couldn’t be trusted to be
faithful.

Unfortunately, her fears weren’t completely
unfounded. The men he represented more often than not succumbed to the
temptation of the opposite sex. Women sometimes even offered him “favors” in
exchange for access to his wealthy clients.

“Don’t start that shit.” She hated when he
cursed at her in anger. It had slipped out, but he wouldn’t take it back.

“Don’t swear at me!” Cassidy’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re acting mighty touchy. Maybe you do have something to hide.”

“I’m done, because I’m really not in the mood
for this foolishness.” Antonio removed his shoes and walked toward the massive
walk-in closet they shared. “I come home and I just want to relax, but instead
I get attacked and tossed out of my bedroom—which isn’t going to happen, by the
way.” He entered the closet and dropped his shoes in an empty space on the
floor. “You didn’t even tell me if Celeste and the baby are okay.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask, but they’re
fine, and if you’d gone with me to the hospital, you’d know that.”

He shook his head. She really knew how to push
his buttons.

“Don’t try to change the subject, because I’m
not done talking to you about what you did.”

“Actually, we are done talking, so drop it.”

“I will not drop it!” Cassidy screamed.

Antonio walked out of the closet and slammed
the door. Taking a deep breath, he reined in his temper and kept his voice low.
“I
said
, drop it.”

Cassidy stared at her husband, her chest
heaving up and down in fury. She hated when he became super calm and pitched
his voice to a low, soothing tone. In fact, he never raised his voice at her.
Even when she was itching for a fight, he refused to oblige her.

Antonio walked toward the bathroom, unbuttoning
his shirt as he went. A flare of heat passed through her loins as she watched
him undress. His movements, quick and smooth, almost graceful, revealed a large
expanse of caramel-colored skin. The open shirt lay bare the tight muscles of
his chest and the eight-pack abs he’d earned from rigorous regular exercise as
part of a family of sports fanatics. A narrow waist tapered to slim hips and
long, muscular legs. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He had to walk by her to get to the
bathroom, and the smell of him filled the air, an earthy, male scent that
teased her senses. She breathed him in and closed her eyes as he passed,
fighting back the erotic sensations that coursed through her blood. They hadn’t
made love in what seemed like forever because she hadn’t allowed him to touch
her. It was the longest they’d gone without making love since they were
married. Her body cried out for his touch, making it very hard to stay mad at
him when all she wanted to do was climb his lean, wiry frame.

The bathroom door swung shut, which
meant the conversation was over. At least for him.

Cassidy paced the floor, agitated.
Antonio was keeping something from her. He’d always worked hard, and it had
never been a problem between them before. She’d supported him all the way, but
in the past, he’d found time to spend with her. That was no longer the case.
His schedule stayed filled with activities that didn’t include her, and she
couldn’t remember the last time they had a date night.

And his behavior in general was . . . different.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he wasn’t himself. At times he seemed
distracted, drifting off to a place he didn’t allow her to follow. When she
tried to find out what was wrong, he responded to her probing questions with
noncommittal answers.

She’d grown tired of acting as if
everything was okay, smiling to friends and family when she felt as if her
marriage was crumbling around her.

Her greatest fear was being one of those
wives who’d overstayed her welcome and not knowing that she had. She knew all
about that and had experienced the fallout firsthand as a child when her
parents’ marriage fell apart.

Blinking back tears, Cassidy gathered up
the bedding. If he wouldn’t sleep in another room, then she would. She marched
out and went to the linen closet in the hall to exchange the regular
pillowcases for the satin ones she preferred to sleep on. The spare bedroom was
sparsely furnished because they were still working on the house. This
particular room contained only a bed and a bureau.

She shut the door, made the bed, and
then climbed in. Bone tired from the busy day and the angry tension she’d been
carrying around because of Antonio, her eyes almost immediately drooped shut. 

At some point during the night, she dreamed she
was weightless and floated above the bed. She shifted and turned in her sleep,
and that’s when she realized it wasn’t a dream. Antonio had lifted her in his
arms and was moving through the dark house with long strides.

Her eyes fluttered open. “What are you doing?”
she mumbled against his bare chest.

“I’m not sleeping in a different room, and
neither are you,” he replied in a grim tone. “We do not sleep apart in this house.”

He smelled so good—fresh and clean from his
shower. She looped an arm around his neck as he carried her back to their room
as if she weighed next to nothing.

When he placed her in the bed, she remembered
she was supposed to be mad at him and rolled over, offering him her back.
“Don’t touch me.”

He didn’t respond, offering his back, too. Then
he shifted, pounded the pillow, and shifted again. He kept that up for almost a
minute before he finally settled down.

When he hadn’t moved in a while, she thought
about sneaking out. This time she’d lock the door in the other bedroom. She
lifted her head.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Dammit.
He wasn’t asleep yet.

Cassidy dropped her head back to the pillow and
pouted. With a sigh, she determined to settle in for the night.

A long time afterward, she was still wide
awake, but his even breathing suggested he’d fallen asleep.

Of course,
she
couldn’t sleep, because
the scent of him still clung to her skin. She was horny, and it was all his
fault. Withholding sex was supposed to be a punishment for him, but she had managed
to torture herself in the process.

She rolled onto her back and froze when she let
out an involuntary moan. Biting her lip, she glanced sideways to see if he’d
react to the sound or the movement.

No stirring and no acknowledgement came from
his side of the bed. She curled her fingers into her palm and rolled back onto
her side.

Damn him
, she thought. She couldn’t
help thinking of all that tempting, half-naked, masculine perfection lying
there.

She reached up and touched one of her aching
breasts, so sensitive, a tingle rippled across her skin. She closed her eyes
and let out a low groan, twisting restlessly in the bed.

Cupping her breast, she squeezed the soft flesh
and flicked the taut nipple with her thumb, causing heat to flare across the
lower region of her body. She bit her lip and let out an exasperated breath.
Even though she could easily turn over and get what she wanted because Antonio
never refused her, she decided to take care of herself. Besides, she didn’t
want to give him the satisfaction.

She closed her eyes and imagined him touching
her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before when he wasn’t around. She’d just
pretend he wasn’t here. She had to be careful, though, because she risked
waking him up.

Cassidy slid one hand down her belly to between
her legs and squeezed her breast tight with the other hand, amplifying the pulsing
ache in her body.    

She’d just started to get going good when
movement on the other side of the bed made her hold her breath and freeze like
a burglar caught in the act of a robbery, her hand still between her legs.

Antonio’s quiet voice came from across the bed.
“What are you doing over there?”

Chapter Three

The only light came from the radiant numbers on
the face of the digital clock on the nightstand on Cassidy’s side of the bed,
but Antonio could see her well enough.

He knew what she’d been up to. When he removed
Cassidy from the guest bedroom, the feel of her soft body against his and the
scent of her rose water–scented hair had colluded to keep him awake with an
erection of steel. He’d finally managed to relax, though sleep evaded him.

Before getting married, his parents had given
him lots of advice, acquired after thirty-plus   years of marriage. They had
certain rules they lived by and encouraged him to employ in his own marriage.
Rule number one had been to never go to bed angry with each other. No way he
could live up to that one with Cassidy as his wife, so he’d long ago crossed it
off his list. The second he could certainly control: when under the same roof,
always sleep in the same bed.

Despite her foul attitude, he’d been determined
they would spend the night together. While Cassidy moved around, he’d lain
quietly, conjuring as many nonsexual thoughts as he could to get the blood in
his groin to disperse and nourish other body parts. Then he heard the soft
mewling noises behind him. The sounds derailed his attempt to stifle his lust
and made him even harder because he’d known right away what she was up to.

He propped up on an elbow. The tangled
bedcovers rested low on her waist. He lowered his gaze, and even though she lay
on her side, he could see her hand was inside her underwear. He swore softly.

“What are you doing, Cass?” he whispered.

She took a deep breath, but continued to ignore
him.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

She didn’t move. She could be so stubborn.

“Give it to me.” Thinking about what she’d been
doing without him made his voice hoarse. The least she could’ve done was let
him watch.

Not waiting for her to follow through, he
cuffed her wrist and easily pulled out her hand. In the ambient light of the
room, he could see the moisture on her two middle fingers—the digits she’d been
using to get herself off.

“I’m right here, and you’re doing this? Hmm . .
. ?” 

He brought them to his nose and inhaled the
musky feminine perfume of arousal. The need to taste overwhelmed him, and he
plunged her fingers into his mouth and sucked, taking his time as he used his
tongue and lips to pull off every drop. She moaned softly the entire time, her
eyes heavy lidded as she watched him relish the act of licking her fingers
clean.

“You’re next,” he said when he finished.

He covered her body with his and kissed her
parted lips—soft as pillows and sweet as honey. He consumed them, thrusting his
tongue into her mouth and feeding with an eagerness and hunger that had been
restrained for almost two weeks. He sought her concession, which she willingly
offered, all thoughts of resistance long dissipated. 

They sucked on each other’s mouths, and
their tongues dueled, slipping and sliding over each other as the kiss deepened
and hunger sharpened. He moved his hands down to her buttocks and squeezed as
he pressed his hard body into hers, grinding his length dead center where she
ached. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and he groaned as he imagined how
warm and wet she already was.

When he dragged her underwear down her
legs, a helpless sound slipped from her throat. He kissed his way down her
stomach and tossed one slender leg over his shoulder. With a rough groan, he
lowered his head to the juncture between her legs. He kissed her, then used his
tongue to stroke her swollen labia, extra sensitive because it was bare and
smooth. 

“You taste so good,
mami
.”

Cassidy clutched his head. His hair was
too long, but she loved it. Loved to tangle her fingers in the soft, curly
strands. She curled her spine, offering moans of encouragement, her head tossed
back as she gave herself over to the heat he created with the intimate caresses
of his tongue. He was a master at the art of oral sex, and she was his ever-willing
slave.

His hand moved along the length of her
thigh, and her mind emptied of all other thoughts except what he was doing
between her legs. His mouth coaxed cream from her as he licked in earnest. The
sounds he made in his throat only served to turn her on more, forcing her to
pump her hips against his mouth.

She called on the names of the deities,
taking short, uneven breaths because of the relentless caress of his lips and
tongue. His mouth moved with urgency, driving her crazy as he continued to
feast on her wet flesh, spreading the lips apart to get at the sticky wetness.