Chapter 2
Two months after the end of Reciprocity…
The glare-down entered its fifth minute with neither of us backing down. My jaw twitched. Lila’s jutted forward. A bottle of wine sat between us on the counter. The kitchen was a disaster, we both looked wrecked, and we hadn’t had sex in five days.
Five fucking days.
Weeks of small spats were building, and the blowout was bound to happen at any moment. What bothered me, what hurt the most, was the reason why my wife and I were having such difficulties.
It wasn’t because of someone coming after us, my overbearing protectiveness, or her family. No, it was us.
Us.
Me.
Her.
The reality of life without looking over our shoulders.
Who were Nathan and Delilah Thorne?
What did they like? What did they do in their spare time? Hobbies?
The only hobby I had was fucking her, and that wasn’t happening lately because one or both of us was constantly angry at the other for sometimes unknown, irrational reasons.
Sex was no longer providing the way to connect.
There was a glitch in our system. We needed a reboot.
All I wanted to do was take her over my lap, spank the shit out of her for being difficult, then shove my cock in her. Problem being that it wouldn’t solve anything, and she wasn’t in the frame of mind to relent to my dominance. My Honeybear was a hard-headed, strong-willed fighter. I’d be lucky if I came out with my cock still attached.
She wasn’t fucking giving in.
Giving in to what was the new question. To me? I wasn’t sure.
It had been so many days, I couldn’t remember what we were even fighting about. I’m sure she did, though, and I would be a dead man for not knowing.
The phone in my pocket chirped, and her eyes narrowed. Without batting at eye, I pulled the phone out and accepted the call.
“Thorne.”
“Whoa. You okay?”
I clenched my jaw and took note of how Lila’s knuckles were white from her grip on the edge of the counter. “Fine, Drew. What’s up?”
“I know it’s late, but I’ve got a hearing in the morning and I just received information on a pending case against my client that impacts his financials. I hate to ask, man, but since you’ve become the lawsuit guru, I could really use your help. I’ve been staring at it so long it’s looking like gibberish.”
Lila pushed away from the counter, still staring at me as she backed up, then turned and walked out of the room.
Since my night wasn’t bound to improve… “I’ll be there in twenty.”
I didn’t even wait for a response before hanging up. With Lila banging around somewhere in the bedroom, I took a moment to try to cool off. Tempers were out of control, and my whole body radiated with so many powerful emotions that I was actually afraid of what I might do.
My personal trainer, Jared, had to cancel on me that day, and I greatly needed that outlet.
I took a deep breath and headed to the entry. “I have to go to—“
“I know! I heard. Bye.” Lila cut me off.
The urge to punch the wall was strong.
I made sure to slam the door as hard as I could on my way out, just to make her jump, even though I wouldn’t see it. My anger wasn’t enough to stop my compulsive locking of the door before I stomped down the hall to the elevator. Angry or not, protecting Lila, even in such a small fashion, was mandatory to my nature.
The ride to the office gave me time to think, though no answers to any of my questions came. I was able to decompress a little, but it wasn’t enough.
Every cell in my body shook. A ticking time bomb, ready to explode—a feeling so extreme I’d forgotten how overwhelming it was. Over a year ago, it was a normal reaction Lila incited in me, but now it was for different reasons while still related to her.
At almost eight in the evening, there was still half a dozen cars in the parking lot, including Owen’s—months later Jack still had Lila on a restricted forty-hour work week.
An elevator ride and a quiet walk down the hall led me to one of the only lights shining from the open doors. I tapped on the door, and Drew’s blond head popped up.
“Hey, Nate,” he said as he started to smile, then frowned. “Is everything okay?”
I shook my head and leaned on the door frame. “No.”
“What’s going on?”
I let out a harsh sigh as I fell into the chair in front of his desk. “Vincent Marconi is dead and his organization is crumbling. Adam is in jail. Life should be rainbows and fucking sunshine, but my marriage is blowing up.”
His brow scrunched up. “Wait…what? You should be kicking back and enjoying life after everything you’ve been through.”
I leaned forward and ran my hands over my face. “Should, but I think that’s part of the problem. I don’t think we know how to do that.”
“Well, you’ve been through a lot. Did you really think everything would be perfect with Marconi dead? It’s been so long for both of you. Do you even know how to live?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think we do.” I blew out a breath and looked back up at him. “So, what’s your hang-up?”
It didn’t take long to help Drew with his problem. Most of it was due to a combination of staring at it for too long and the panic of new information. A fresh set of eyes, and problem solved. However, two hours had managed to pass since I left home.
Stopping at a light on the way home a glint of light caught my eye, my gaze moving to it. The platinum wedding band on my left hand was shining in the streetlight. To me, it was a symbol of rebirth and a love for a woman who was part of my soul.
Why couldn’t I figure out how to fix us?
I always knew what she needed. Always so in tune with her.
After the trial, after Vincent’s death, life was finally clearing up. Once Tom was out of the hospital, his team hit the Marconi hard with legal troubles.
But when the dust settled, so did reality and a confusion neither of us was expecting.
We didn’t know what to do or who we were.
So much time had been spent running, but what did you do when the treadmill stopped?
It was nearly midnight when I returned home. With each floor that ticked by in the elevator, another expectation of what awaited me passed through my mind. The fighting was tiring, draining, and I didn’t want any more of it tonight. I just wanted to go to bed, curled up with my wife.
I took a deep breath and slowly let it out as I opened the door.
Silence greeted me, but our condo was still half lit. The kitchen lights were on as well as a lamp in the living room.
After hanging up my coat, I began popping the buttons of my shirt as I made my way to the bedroom. Low murmuring came from the television, but the bed was empty.
“Lila?” I called out.
Small speckles on the carpet caught my eye from the glow of the open ensuite door. The dark red color sent a spike of panic through me as I rushed forward, my heart hammering in my constricting chest. The door bounced off the stopper as my eyes snapped around to each new smear of red.
“Lila?”
No. Not now. There was no reason now. We didn’t matter any longer. Not to anyone. So why? Where?
I raced back out to the living room searching for any evidence, any clue, as to what happened, but everywhere I looked was normal. No signs of a struggle anywhere.
The illumination at the end of the hall drew me in. Slow, careful steps. Quiet. I pushed on the door, frantically looking around for anyone.
Lila was there, sitting at her desk, head lying on top of her folded arms. As I walked to her I noticed her hand was bandaged. Reaching out, I pushed a few strands from her face.
“Baby?”
She grunted, her eyes fluttering open before closing again, then settled back down.
I smirked and leaned over, drawing her up and into my arms. She didn’t wake, but her hands did clutch onto my shirt and she nuzzled into my neck.
Having her in my arms was calming. Her body against mine provided a small snippet of that connection we’ve been missing.
The grip she had on me refused to release as I laid her down. I reached out and swept the hair from her face. “It’s okay, baby. I’m home.”
Her fingers relaxed, slipping down to the bed.
After covering her with the blanket, I walked into the kitchen to get some supplies to clean up the trail of splattered blood. It started in the closet, the first drops, along with the offending item—a cardboard box. I stared down at it and shook my head. Such an innocuous, simple-looking item. Harmless.
The panic it incited was laughable as it sat there with its flaps at odd angles.
After cleaning up, I pulled my clothes off and climbed into bed. There, I did what I always did, and pulled her to me—chest to back. The sweet smell of her hair calmed me, along with each slow, steady breath.
The next morning I woke up to the sound of my alarm. I slammed my hand down and rubbed my eyes. I stretched out beside me, but the bed was empty. She wasn’t there. However, the shower was running, thus halting the rising panic attack.
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My knee throbbed, as did my head, threatening to turn into a violent migraine. Add in the ache in my ribs and wrist, and I knew the weather was going to be rain filled. Probably with thunderstorms.
Limping my way into the bathroom, I entered just as Lila opened the shower door. She jumped in surprise, probably shocked from my zombie-like walking and tired eyes.
I reached out for her and she stepped back, but I caught her wrist and pulled it toward me. Looking down, I inspected the cut. Thankfully, it seemed to have sealed itself, but it was a bit larger than I thought and by her hiss, quite tender.
My gaze ran up her arm, cringing inside when the white circle patch of skin on her shoulder came into view. There was no time I could ever imagine the site of her wound from Marconi’s bullet wouldn’t cause some violent reaction within me.
“Stitches?”
She shook her head. “I think it’ll be fine.”
I pulled off my underwear and switched places with her, hating the gap as she squeezed by.
Hating each second of walking on eggshells.
Hating the silence.
Hating how much I just wanted to touch her, but had to stop myself.
Hating how we were both mad, but still madly in love.
Because even with all the crap of the prior weeks, I remained completely and totally in love with her. A few weeks of fighting could never and would never be enough to shake that.
When I stepped out a few minutes later and a whole lot cleaner, Lila stood at the sink, blow-dryer on full blast, her hand wrapped up again in gauze. Toweling off, I walked back into the bedroom in search of what suit to wear.
In the closet hung three suits.
Three.
I tilted my head back and blew out, my jaw jutting forward.
“Lila!”
The blow-dryer was still going, and I knew she couldn’t hear me, so I went back to the bathroom.
“Lila!”
I caught her gaze in the mirror and her thumb flipped the switch, the noise level dropping and reminding me how much my head was thumping.
“Did you pick up the dry cleaning?”
Her brow scrunched and she shook her head. “It’s your week.”
“I dropped them off this week. You were supposed to.” Our alternating schedule usually worked out without issue, but the three suits hanging in my closet meant we were more than one week out.
“I picked them up last week. On Thursday when you were with Jared.”
“Last Thursday you went out with Caroline.”
She shook her head. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal. We’ll pick it up tonight.”
“If we have any clothes for work.”
She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned her hip against the counter. “What? It’s my fault?”
“Yes. Clothes have been dropped off, but not picked up. Two weeks’ worth.”
“We can pick them up after work.”
“We have to, otherwise neither of us will have enough clothes for work to get through next week.”
“And you didn’t pick them up last week, or we wouldn’t have two weeks’ worth.”
I turned, my head shaking back and forth, teeth mashing as I returned to the closet to pick from the laundry leftovers. The whole ordeal left me wondering how we both managed to not notice our dwindling attire.
Dark grey suit was the winner. Luckily, all of my suits were fairly new, purchased right before I started and all close in style.
After getting dressed and ready, I went to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Even after a shower and moving around, everything still hurt.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Incessant and going along with the tick in my eye as I stared at the gallon of milk sitting on the counter—a leftover ingredient of dinner.
“Fuck.”
“What?” Lila asked, entering behind me.
I twisted the top off the container and moved to the sink, pouring over half a gallon down the drain.
“What are you doing?”
“You left it out last night.”
“I did?”
It was that tone. The one that had become like nails on a chalkboard and the telltale ding of the next round.
“You made the alfredo sauce. Now there’s no milk for breakfast.”
Her gaze narrowed, fists clenched at her side. I tried not to zoom in on the gauze wrapped around her hand, on remembering my panic the night before, but it flooded me. I hated seeing her in any kind of pain, yet every day we were dishing it out at each other, and I couldn’t stand it.
Something was wrong with her emotionally—and me—but I couldn’t help. That was where the gap between us came in, growing wider every day as we pushed each other away.
“What the fuck is your problem this morning?”
I rinsed out the container and turned, glaring at her. “What isn’t?” Here we fucking go. “Do I need to start back in with the lack of clothing?”
She threw up her arms in the air. “I can’t believe you’re still harping on that. We can pick up the dry cleaning on the way in.” She reached for her purse. “Let’s go.”
“Why the hurry?”
“If we have to make an extra stop, we need the extra time.” There was annoyance in her tone.
“Not trying to get in early?”
What the fuck am I doing?
Good question. Testy, uncontrollable anger and frustration for no reason. No logical reason, at least. “You’re wearing your flirty skirt today. Didn’t know if that was for your intern.”
Her jaw dropped open as she stared at me and shook her head. “We’ve already had the discussion about the lack of clothing. Besides, I wear this to work all the time and you quite like it.”
She was trying to defuse me, and that just amped me up more.
“Me and every other guy.”
Her hand slammed down on the counter. “Fucking stop! Being stupid jealous is not helping things.”
“Stupid jealous?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Tears filled her eyes, her body so tense she was shaking. “Yes. It’s not sexy jealousy, it’s just another fucking excuse to incite a fight.”
She was right. I wasn’t really jealous of Chris, her intern. Anger clawed at the one thing I desperately wanted, and I was lashing out with any excuse.
“Fuck!” I grabbed hold of the nearest thing and flung it at the wall. The wine glass shattered and landed in hundreds of pieces on the floor.
“I can fucking do that, too,” she said, “but it doesn’t fucking change anything. We’re still two fucked-up people pissed at each other.”
My jaw clenched, and I stared at the spot on the cabinet the glass had hit. “I don’t want to be pissed. I’m fucking tired of this shit.”
She was silent for a minute, then her voice came out in a small whisper I could barely hear. “Me too.”
I wanted to call her Honeybear. To pull her into my arms. To fuck the sense out of both of us.
To feel anything but the void between us.
An hour later we survived a silent drive to the office and equally silent ride up the elevator. We walked beside each other, my fingers itching to grab her hand with every step.
Why did shit have to be so complicated?
“Lunch?” she asked as we stopped in front of her office door.
I nodded, my jaw clenching and unclenching. “Somewhere close. We have Darren tonight.”
“I know.” It was an involuntary snap back. I could tell by the way her eyes widened, then shifted to the floor as her shoulders tensed, drawing up.
It was a reaction that didn’t happen often, but killed me when it did. Still stuck with a fear she might never shake. Fear that her talking back would earn a hit. The last thing I ever wanted was for her to be afraid of me.
I reached out for her arm. The simple touch of my fingers releasing the tension, and she stepped forward. A small kiss to her forehead. A silent “I love you.”
“I’ll see you later.”
She nodded and moved to her desk. I couldn’t help but watch.
When she looked up and our eyes met, the same sadness laced in anger I felt in myself stared back. Turning, I headed down the hall to my office.
Therapy had to help us, because I didn’t think I could stand much more of the abyss.
Darren stared at us. Me on one end, Lila on the other. He blew out a breath and sat back. “I should’ve never taken you out of couples counseling.” He shook his head. “Here we are, a month back into it, and it appears that things are only getting worse.”
We both remained silent, both stewing and not knowing what to say.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to play twenty questions?”
Again, silence.
“Okay, twenty questions it is.” He cleared his throat, glanced down at his notebook, then between us. “Lila, how’s your shoulder?”
Her mouth dropped open, then closed. “Fine.”
I shook my head.
“Nathan, do you disagree?”
I turned to her. “You’re not fine.”
Her jaw jutted forward. “And how do you know?”
The blood in my veins ticked, heating as it pumped viciously through me. “Who’s always around you? Who watches you? Sees you struggle to get dressed? Do chores? Even drive?”
“Well, maybe that’s the problem.”
I leaned back, the blood that was fire turning ice cold. “Which is it, Lila? I’m around too much or not enough?”
Her brow scrunched up and her arms knotted tighter.
“Lila, what’s wrong?” Darren asked, staring her down. She didn’t budge, just stared at the ground. “Can you find words for what you feel?”
“Feel?” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tear slipping from her eyes. “I feel the overwhelming panic. The fear and pain… I see the gun lined up, stare down the barrel, and wait.”
Darren perked up at her last word. “Are you still waiting?”
There was a pause. “Yes,” she said, the word breaking.
A sound I couldn’t even identify tore from my chest.
Arms holding me back. Vincent standing over her. Blood pouring from her.
Helpless.
Unable to protect the one thing I swore I’d die to protect.
Watching him take my wife from me. Again.
I rolled off the couch into a standing position, unable to take the tightness growing in my chest. Pacing began as I tried to calm myself.
Darren shot me a glance, then turned back to Lila. “How often do you think about it?”
“All the time,” she whispered.
“You’ve mentioned this to me in passing in our private sessions. Have you ever mentioned it to Nathan before?”
I looked over to her. It was the first I’d heard of it, but why?
“No.”
“And why is that?”
She tucked her head in even closer to her chest. “Because I don’t want to remind him.”
“Do you think he’s forgotten?”
Not for a second.
She shook her head.
“Do you think he goes through the same thing?”
She stayed unmoving.
My hands fisted and relaxed in a pulsing beat that match the tensing of my muscles as I stared at her.
“Nathan, why are you so agitated?” Darren asked, but I was certain he knew the answer. He just wanted me to say it out loud.
“Do you have any idea what that did to me?” I growled through clenched teeth. “To watch him shoot you, then put a fucking gun to your head?”
The last part came out as a yell, making her shrink back.
She refused to look at me. “I know it was hard.”
I let out a harsh grunt. “Hard doesn’t even fucking cover it! I died in those seconds. I wanted that bullet lined up to my head because I can’t… I can’t…” The words caught in my throat. A vice wrapped around my chest, and I felt tears sliding down my face. Her hand slid across the open space between us, but I returned to pacing the floor. “You’re waiting to die, and I’m dying in the wait.”
“Exactly.”
I stopped and turned to Darren. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“What you said. It’s why you’re off. You may not be hunted anymore, but you’re both haunted.” He looked between us, and by his expression, it seemed he had it all figured out, like always. “You’re mad, because Lila gave up. She accepted what was about to happen, while you fight against it still.”
“How could I not? There was no way out. I made peace with it. And then I was still alive and we were okay, but I feel like we are dead and this is purgatory.”
I kneeled down in front of her, my hands resting on the tops of her thighs. “We’re not dead. We’re alive. No one is coming for us.”
“How do you know?” she asked, her brow scrunched, bottom lip quivering.
“I don’t,” I said, taking her hands in mine, “but I don’t think they care now that Vincent is dead. It was his vendetta. And we can’t live a life waiting for them to come back.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t know how to shake this.”
I placed a light kiss on her fingers. “The same way we do everything—together.”
“He’s right.”
We both looked to Darren.
“The two of you are strongest together. I’m just your mediator. Forcing you to voice the thoughts that haunt you.”
I reached out and cupped her cheek. Something inside clicked back into place when she leaned into me. Those beautiful eyes of hers met mine, and for the first time in weeks, truly connected.
“I’m scared.”
“I know, Honeybear, but I’m here. I’m always right beside you.”
Where I would always be for the rest of our lives.
The atmosphere in the car was lighter on the way home than it had been on the way to see Darren. Finally, it seemed peace was settling back in.
“How’s your work husband doing?” I asked, trying to keep the lighter atmosphere close.
“Work husband?”
“Yeah. Owen.”
She shook her head. “You know, my actual, living, breathing husband works for the same employer with his office just down the hall, so technically he’s my work husband.”
I chuckled. “While that may be true, working so close to you, there is a relationship between you two.”
“Really?”
I nodded, my foot hitting the gas as the light changed. “Yes. He knows how you like your coffee, can tell when you aren’t feeling well.”
“He’s a sweet guy.” Her lips spread into a smile. “His girlfriend is lucky. Or is this your way of telling me you’re jealous?”
My lip twitched, and I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“A little,” I grumbled. I was a jealous ass when it came to my wife. She was mine.
“Why?”
“First off, because you’re mine, but also because I miss having our desks touching.”
She smiled at me. “I miss you too. Besides, I get jealous as well. I mean, it’s not like the Boob Squad has disappeared. They’re still always around and flirting with you.”
“Jennifer’s gone. Fired. Remember?” I sure did. Lila rode me so hard in my office that day.
The corners of her mouth turned down as a disgusted look covered her face. “God, she was the worst.”
“And it hasn’t been nearly as bad since we got married.”
“Not now that their ringleader is jobless.”
There was a shift in the car and that sweet, familiar heat that moved between us, the one I missed so very much, filled the air, crackling between us, almost tangible.
My fingers clenched around the steering wheel as my cock hardened. My tongue swiped across my lips, and I glanced to Lila. Her cheeks were flushed, hands clenched together, thighs rubbing against each other.
I reached out and grabbed onto her thigh, causing her to gasp, her hips rising off the seat.
Days without each other’s touch left us with an intense physical reaction. So much so that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it to the parking lot, up the elevator, and inside our home.
The hard cock in my pants was in control, slamming my foot on the gas, propelling us faster down the highway.
I wanted her against the wall, against the one I’d taken out so many of my feelings for her.
“Nathan…” The breathy whisper of my name from her lips made me groan.
The second we were in a parking spot, I turned the car off and jumped out. Grabbing on to her hand, I practically dragged her inside.
“Hi, Mike,” Lila said, giving the guard a wave as we ran past.
In the elevator bay, I pressed the button more times than needed. I knew it wouldn’t help get the elevator any faster, but if I didn’t do it, I was going to do X-rated things to my wife in the lobby.
The elevator arrived, and the second we were on I shoved her against the wall. I leaned down and kissed her, making sure to push my tongue into her mouth. To taste her, to let her know how much I wanted her.
When we broke apart, she let out a small giggle—a sound that had only appeared in the last year. Cheeks pink, lips swollen, and the sexiest little smile let me know my vixen was just as ready as I was.
“Is there something you want, Mr. Thorne?”
I reached out and pressed the button for our floor before running my hand up her thigh, under her skirt. I cupped her pussy, pressing my fingers in, making her squirm against me. “Well, Mrs. Thorne, I want this pussy. It’s been way too long.”
Her thighs parted and she grabbed onto my shirt, pulling me closer. “What is it that you want to do?”
A smirk grew on my face as I pulled her panties aside, my thumb finding her clit, making her jump. “I want to stick my cock in my pussy and fuck it until the insides are painted white. I want you begging like a whore for more.”
“Fuck.”
The second the doors slid open I was dragging her down the hall, fumbling with the keys as I located the one for the door.
Six days since I’d been inside my wife.
Six days since I’d gotten off.
As soon as the door was open, she walked through and I followed, shutting and locking the door behind me.
I turned and cupped her face in my hands, my lips pressing against hers as I walked her back against the wall. Our teeth clattered together when she did.
Moving down, I trailed kisses down her neck, her hands working my belt open as I reached down to pull her skirt up. When it was bunched around her waist, I grabbed under her thighs and lifted her.
“I wasn’t done.” Her whimper went straight to my cock that she was trying to get to.
I shook my head. “Don’t worry.” I reached between us and pulled my dick out before sliding her panties aside.
The head of my cock pressed against her slit before sliding into her wet pussy. A guttural moan slipped out of both of us, and I leaned forward, resting my forehead on hers.
That was it. The missing piece. The connection I’d been itching for.
Our eyes locked as I pulled out and pushed back in, and it felt like every piece of me was finally back in place.
We were back in place.
I trailed one hand up her thigh as I pressed her against the wall.
“I’m alive. You’re alive.” I grabbed onto her abdomen, flexing my fingers. “And I’m going to fuck life into here.”
“Fuck!”
I pulled out and slammed my hips forward. “I think it’s about time my little cock slut gave me a baby. Then you’ll know you’re alive, and we’re okay, and everything will be okay.”
Her pussy tightened around me, a stuttered curse blown from her breath. “Yes.”
It wasn’t going to be a marathon. I’d save that for after. I was in a sprint.
Cries of pleasure echoed off the walls as I dug in, pounding into her. It was too much. Too built up.
“I can’t…” I trailed off, unable to form words as I attempted to hold back, my whole body shaking.
“Come in me.”
All of my muscles tensed, come blasting from my cock. I shook in violent spasms as I emptied inside her.
Strength left me, breath harsh, the last twitches pushing out the final drops.
We slid down to the floor, my head resting on her shoulder. Her fingers combed through my hair as I came down from one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
Blue balls was no fucking joke. My balls hurt after a week of neglect.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I said, placing a kiss on her shoulder.
Her breath was just as harsh as mine. “It never is.”
“But we’ll get past this as we have everything else—together.”
She nodded against me. “Together.”