Suit - Woodruff Jettie. Страница 15

I kissed them both goodnight, leaning down from my crutches, wanting more. I wanted to lay down with them, read them a story, and tell them I loved them. Because of Paxton’s intimidating stares, I didn’t allow my voice to sound cute or in the baby talk I longed to use.

Paxton followed me into the hall, telling both girls he would be right back for a story. I wanted to sit and listen, too, just be with them, but again, I didn’t speak up. I was in no shape to pick a fight. Hands down, I would lose. There wasn’t really much I could do, anyway. I was still trying to decipher what the hell kind of marriage I had.

“Don’t take your clothes off. I want to do it,” he whispered, kissing my neck just below my ear.

“And what if I don’t want you to?”

“Doesn’t matter. Go to your room.” His tongue darted into my mouth that time and I thought I might gag.

Two giggling girls cackled through the hall, hands covering shy mouths with hunkered shoulders.

Aahh! In spite of that gross kiss I’d just endured, the girls were too darn cute. I laughed a little, too, but only for a second.

Rowan broke the pleasantry with her remark. “Daddy loves Mommy.”

Ophelia followed her sister and chimed in, too. “K-S-N-G,” she sang while trying to spell out kissing. She missed a few letters. Paxton let me go and went after them, sending them both into a screaming frenzy. I smiled and continued on my way. At least he was good to them. That meant something. I didn’t know what, but something.

I was tired, ready to lay down and rest, and I still hadn’t had the chance to explore all of my surroundings. I hadn’t snooped through the house at all. I knew both girls’ rooms were dressed in little-girl things. Neat and clean. I loved the openness of the living and dining room, and that kitchen. Oh, my God. It was a chef’s dream—if you liked that sort of thing. I had a feeling I wasn’t much of cook. Besides the bathroom and my room, I hadn’t seen anything else. I didn’t care to that night. My nerves were too wired. I was exhausted, yet anxious. Anxious for my bath.

Chapter Four

I hopped to the wall of curtains, stopping once to adjust the crutch, digging into my left armpit. With a heavy sigh, I gazed out the window, out to the sun about to kiss the ocean. My view consisted of a swimming pool right outside my room, and a fenced-in yard with a wooden playset consisting of two swings and a swirly slide. The house truly was the best one in the entire cul-de-sac. I was sure we owned at least four, maybe five lots. Well Paxton owned it. I didn’t know what I owned. Evidently, it wasn’t Rowan.

My shoulder hurt when I raised my arm, but it didn’t keep me from rubbing my temples with both hands. My head hurt worse than my shoulder. Mostly from not knowing why my husband was my husband, why I showed up in Rowan’s life at about six months old, or why Paxton thought anyone would lie about something like this. Who fakes head injuries? It was so frustrating. Viewing the photos of my life with the girls had done nothing but confuse me more. I knew the photos were of me? yet it didn’t feel like me. I didn’t remember it. None of it.

I heard Paxton open the door, close it, and walk toward me, but I didn’t move. My palms became sweaty and my heart thumped in my ears, but I didn’t show fear. Although I probably should have.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he questioned in a loving voice while his arms went around me and his lips kissed my neck. I shuddered from his touch and tried to step away. He squeezed me tighter and added another kiss.

“I don’t think I can have sex with you yet,” I bluntly admitted.

Paxton pressed his flat palm against my lower abdomen and thrust his hips into my backside. “Because you don’t want to, or because you’re hurt?”

“Both.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t want to fuck you,” he confessed with a wondering touch, up and down my hips, my ass, and my breasts. And all while his lips sucked and licked on my neck.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Rowan? I thought she was mine and not yours,” I replied, totally skipping over his comment, and probably one of his lines. I wasn’t about to respond to that one. I kept a stiff posture, trying to ignore his meddling fingers, eyes watching the sun. Even with him pressing his hips into mine, the ocean was breathtaking. Unprecedented. Like it was the first time I had ever seen it.

He halted his movements and laughed in my ear. “Ha! You honestly think I’m the type of man who would love another man’s kid?”

I knew calling him a pig wasn’t in my best interest. It was obvious, I wasn’t allowed to talk back, let alone call him a disgusting rat.

“Tell me how we met,” I replied instead.

The assault continued on my body along with his kisses, and hot words. “No. Shhh, don’t say another word. You’ll remember or I’ll teach you all over again.”

My reply was silenced by the tips of his fingers. There wasn’t a word I could say that this man would understand, that he would respond to in a human manner. He wasn’t human. He was a devil spawn.

“That’s my girl. Now go to the bathroom so we can get you out of these clothes.”

I felt it that time. A growing erection. Great…Paxton ground his hips into my ass and let me go. He turned and walked away from me, leaving me staring after him. I watched him walk into the bathroom, and pondered what to do. I followed when he stopped at the door and waved me in with an open hand and nod toward the room. I took an unnoticed breath of courage and hobbled into hell.

I made it to the first counter before I had to stop. Pain shooting down my hip kept me grounded for a minute. The black-and-gray swirled countertop was covered in fingernail polish. Every color. I glanced at my unpainted nails, and then at my toes. No polish. The bathroom sink worked well for support while I waited for Paxton gathered his necessary tools.

He whistled a familiar tune with a smile while retrieving an electric razor and then a straight one. Not a normal kind of razor with three blades. This one had a long blade.

“All set,” he said, voice matching the boasting written all over his face. He closed the distance between us in three steps. First, he dropped to his knees and unfastened the four Velcro strips on my leg brace. I had to admit, it felt amazing. It felt wonderful to have it off. My captivated leg welcomed the air with joy. I think I might have even sighed in relief. The yellow bruising had almost faded, and one fresh scar snaked from the inside of my knee, around my leg, and to the other side. I could still see tiny holes where the stitches had been.

Paxton’s were warm and used just the right amount of pressure on my leg, which proved to be an unexpected pleasure that didn’t last long.

“Did I always shave down there?” I questioned, unable to get the sharp blade out of my mind, or my eyesight. I swear the blade twinkled like a crystal prism.

“Shhh...Toy. Don’t talk. Don’t open your mouth.”

Toy? I know my eyes grew wide. I’m not sure if it was the word, or the notion behind it that shocked me more. I tried to swallow, yet there was nothing to swallow. My mouth grew dry, my legs trembled from the inside out, and the beat of my heart played out in my head. Paxton slid his hands up my calves, taking the hem of my dress with him. His fingers glided up the backs of my legs, coming to a stop on my ass. Our eyes locked and I held his gaze, searching for answers. He scared me, there was no doubt about that, but I wasn’t about to show it. I held his stare, never looking away.

“Look down,” he quietly ordered, hot sultry words, chilling me to the bone.

I looked down like a cowered without a word. Paxton didn’t speak either. He carefully undressed me, sliding my dress over my head and tossing it to the floor. Next came my panties. He took both my hands and tugged, beckoning me to stand. Just like a puppet on a string, I did. My body spun toward the sink with his help and I held on for support.