Alex clutched his jaw as he staggered back, stunned.
The sting of it hit me a second too late. I had to fist my hands at my sides to stop myself from rushing forward and apologize, checking his face, asking if I'd hurt him. That instinct terrified me more than the slap itself. But another part of me, colder and angrier, stood its ground.
After all this time, he still acted without telling me. And hurt Camilla in the process.
"I'm starting to think you take a perverse pleasure in hurting me, wife," he hissed, working his jaw, those eyes sharp with something feral.
"What the fuck have you done?" I snapped. "She's my friend."
I had been hoping to leave her out of this. Or at the very least, when she had caught Alex in my room, to coax her to our side, make her see reason before everything shattered. I could've handled her. I would have.
Instead, he just had to act alone. And the realization hit like a slap of its own. That not only had he taken control from me, but he had planted a spy on her. Toyed with her feelings. On my friend. The audacity of it burned hotter than fear, hotter even than the betrayal.
"You think I give a fuck?" he shot back, rolling his jaw, testing the ache like it amused him.
Guilt flared, hot and immediate, but I crushed it. He didn't deserve it. Not tonight.
"Or is this jealousy I'm sensing?" he continued, his voice smoothing into something dangerous, deliberate. "What? Are you angry because I touched her? Held her against the wall?" His gaze dragged over me. "Like I was initially planning to do with you? To punish you?"
My breath stuttered, but I lifted my chin anyway.
"Do it," I challenged, my voice trembling with defiance. "And I'll find the nearest man to fuck right in front of you."
The silence that followed was razor-thin.
"You wouldn't dare," he said quietly. "He'll be a dead man."
"Try me."
He moved.
I reacted on instinct as I ducked, twisted, but I wasn't fast enough. His leg swept out, precise and merciless and before I knew it, I landed face down on the carpet underneath him. The impact knocking the air out of my lungs.
I barely had time to shift before his weight settled over me, heavy and unrelenting, pinning me beneath him. My heart thundered in my ears as his heat pressed in close, fierce and demanding. His fingers trailed up my dress, lifting it slowly to my waist.
"You belong to me, Isla," he murmured, his touch lingering on the delicate skin of my thighs before a sharp smack landed on my ass, forcing a breathless gasp from me. "Just as I belong to you. Mind, body and fucking soul."
He slid the zipper of my dress down, pulling the fabric away as his hand curved around my breast, firm and possessive. His other hand gripped my neck, drawing me nearer until the back of my head rested against his shoulder. His lips found the sensitive skin on my neck, claiming it softly. "To think I'd have anyone else, be with anyone else, ridiculous. I thought I've made that clear all week."
My dress finally fell away, as his hand drifted down from my breast, tracing the curve of my body until it slipped between my legs. My eyes followed, watching as two fingers disappeared where I was already aching and exposed.
"Look at this," he whispered as he nipped my neck, fingers moving deliberately inside me, "how much you want me. How perfect you are, for me."
"I'm still angry with you, Alex," I breathed, voice shaky.
He deepened his gaze, adding a finger with quiet insistence, drawing a low moan out of me. "Maybe I should be mad at you, Princess," he said, voice thick with emotion. "You're the one who hurt me. You slapped me."
"That's because you hurt my friend," I snapped, wrenching my body away from his touch. The sudden emptiness left a hollow ache, and I groaned softly before steadying myself, masking the sting. "I thought we were in this together, but here you are again, planning your own spies behind my back."
"Is that really so wrong?" His gaze traveled slowly down my naked body, dark and hungry.
I rose to my feet and approached him while he remained on his knees, eyes locked on me like a devoted worshiper in the dim light, and I was his goddess. My fingers tangled in his hair just as he made a show of licking his fingers, slick with my desire.
"I should be the one punishing you," I whispered, both hands tilting his jaw upward, drawing his eyes to meet mine. His lashes fluttered as his nose brushed against the heat between my thighs.
"Then what are you waiting for?" His voice was a low challenge.
I grinned, voice thick with command. "Take off your clothes."
His eyes never left mine, when he shed his suit jacket, then slipped his fingers beneath the collar of his white button-up, slow and deliberate, the fabric cool against his skin as he peeled it away. Each movement was charged. His muscles flexing beneath the shirt before it fell to the floor in a soft whisper.
His hands moved to the waistband of his trousers, undoing the buttons with a steady, confident ease. The pants followed, sliding down his legs, revealing the strong lines of his thighs and calves, taut and defined. He paused just long enough to meet my gaze, breath warm against my skin, before peeling off his underwear with the same measured intent.
Naked before me, his green eyes darkened with a fierce fire, daring me to cross the line. "I'm all yours, wife," he breathed, his voice low, charged. "What would you have me do?"
I traced my finger along his jaw, tipping his chin up, locking my gaze with his. "Kiss me, husband," I whispered.
And he did. His kiss was a hunger unleashed, desperate and consuming. Both hands gripped my neck, inching down until I caught his wrists firmly. "I said kiss, not touch," I murmured, eyes flickering down playfully. "I only want you to kiss me like you mean it. Like you love me."
A dark, sexy chuckle rumbled from his chest before his lips trailed a scorching path down my jaw, my throat, then finally reaching to the swell of my breasts. He savored every inch. Licking, teasing, biting before drifting even lower.
I leaned back, my ass pressing against the floor, legs spread wide before him. I slid two fingers between my folds, tracing slow, deliberate circles over my wetness, keeping my eyes on him unwaveringly. His jaw clenched, every muscle taut with raw, primal desire. His hands curled into fists at his sides like a wild beast, barely restrained.
"Why did you stop?" I challenged, my voice heavy with need. "Worship me with your tongue."
He paused just a breath, those green eyes darkening with hunger and devotion. "Only because my beautiful wife," he growled low, lowering himself between my legs like a man starving for air, "asks so damn beautifully."