Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (summer beach reads txt) 📗

and messy from a shower, and little droplets of water run down his chest. I want to be mad at him, but I also want to stare at him. It’s really not fair.

"Yeah. Nothing special. Just a cold Italian pasta salad. It's too hot for cooking."

"So, you're telling me I just needed to fuck you to have you start making me dinner around here?” He smirks devilishly and goes to grab two plates from the dryer beside the sink.

"I never said any of this was for you."

“Yeah right, like you’re going to eat all of this."

“Maybe I was going to have a guest over. Someone who doesn’t think I’m trying to poison them when I cook for them.”

“Cute.” He grabs the ladle and scoops a heaping portion onto his plate. “But I guess I deserve that though.” He sets down his plate and then portions the same amount on the other. What is he doing?

Alex moves to the kitchen table with both plates, setting one down in front of him and the other across from him on his left. He takes a large bite of the noodles and moans his appreciation before glancing over at me. “You going to join me or stand there waiting for your guest?” He waves to the empty seat.

I pull out the chair next to him and slip into it. The large portion he has set out for me makes my stomach twist. I pick up my fork and move it around, watching him as he takes bite after bite. At least he’s enjoying it. “And you didn’t have to fuck me to get dinner. It’s about being civil with me. I told you that.”

“But the orgasm helped.” He wiggles his eyebrows, the cockiness seeping out of him.

I slam my fork down and push my chair back. “Can you not be an asshole for five minutes?” I seethe.

“I was just making a point,” he chuckles softly, then sighs when he sees I’m not amused. He reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Will you just sit and relax; I’ll behave, I promise.”

I wiggle out of his grip and tuck my chair back in. “Alright.” I pick my fork up again and continue to play with my food. I feel him looking at me, so I tuck a tiny bite into my mouth. I hate this. There’s nothing worse than having people watch me eat. Judging and worrying. I know I have a problem when it comes to food. I’m not blind to it. It almost killed me once. I got help, but I can’t help that my body hates to eat under any kind of pressure. Maybe, in a way, it’s a control thing, but I honestly haven’t figured it out. I make sure I eat enough to stay healthy-ish, but I do it on my terms. And not when the asshole is staring at me.

“This is good.” He remarks with a hum.

“I’m glad you like it. I actually picked the recipe off google. Thought I’d try something new.”

“Well, aren't you going to eat it?" he grumbles, pointing his fork at me.

“Yeah...of course.” I stab one of the sliced tomatoes and let it hang in the air as I draw my attention to the kitchen counter to avoid eating it. As I stare unfocused at the granite I’m hit with the glimpses of Alex thrusting into me, his warm lips all over me. Then my mouth goes dry, and I drop my fork as I note something was missing. Something really big.

“Alex?” I chew on my bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking about earlier.”

He lays his fork down and a sly grin spreads across his face. “Yeah. What about it? Thinking of a repeat already?”

I shake my head. “You didn’t use protection when we had sex."

“You’re point? You’re my wife and I happened to like the feeling of your cunt bare.”

I gulp, his naughty words always sending that pulsing sensation down to my core. It’s not fucking fair. “I'm clean if that’s what you’re worried about." He shrugs and digs into the pasta salad.

"In part, yes, it was,” I huff. Then I realize the last person he had sex with was Whitney and it sends a cold shiver down my spine. Is he really sure? “But there's that other thing you have to worry about after you have sex."

He looks at me blankly. Oh, Jesus, I guess I have to spell it out for him.

“Hello! Pregnancy!"

He drops his fork and shakes his head. "Aren't you on birth control? Like how old are you?"

"Wow! I should have known the nice layer you were wearing would peel off in an instant. Did you ever consider I might have issues with taking it? Or I just didn’t need it?”

"I don’t give a fuck the reasons right now, the question is, are you?" he sneers, as he pushes back his chair and stands. He slams his fist to the table, trying to intimidate me, but it won’t work.

His hate hurts me, but he doesn’t scare me.

I stand up, matching his stance. "And the answer is, next time you want to fuck me you have to wear a condom.” But I instantly notice the mistake in my own words. I promised him a next time. I can tell in his eyes, as they glaze over with fire, he heard the promise too.

“Oh, there will be a next time, Ju-Ju. I can assure you."

“Then you better wear a fucking condom or don’t be surprised if babies happen,” I snap.

He grabs my wrist, thrusting me into the table making our plates rattle. His dark greens bore into me. "We cannot have babies!”

"Then next time wear a condom, or don’t touch me." I shake out of his hold and push myself fully upright.

He moves around the