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“Hey, asshole. I made you a bowl of carbonara so that I won’t have to hear your stomach all the way upstairs. I didn’t even poison it. Bon appétit and good night.” The door creaks as she closes it, but then it stops. Light spills down the stairs once again as she adds, “Oh, and I sleep with a gun under my pillow, so don’t try anything weird.” I drop my chin, and a smile curves my lips. Because I’m pretty sure that—in her own way—Tabitha Garrison was just nice to me.
“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me being a porn star. If you want to see me fuck someone, the bathroom is right there. Drag me in there right now, and you can watch in the mirror while I bend you over.”
“What’s wrong, husband? You look like you can’t decide whether you want to kill me or fuck me.”
“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this.” My brow furrows. “Like what?” “At my worst.” I tip my head toward her. “Then it’s all uphill from here, baby. It’s going to make seeing you at your best so damn special.”
