Adam shrugged. “I’ve touched you, Shasta.”
“But not as much. It’s hardly ever now.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Do I disgust you?” My words came out a quivered mess, and I found myself clutching my barely clothed body, repulsed by the notion that the man I desperately loved chose to fuck other women instead of me because of something I had no control over.
“No… never. But I can’t look at you, Shasta, without thinking about him. And that kills me.”
“So, dipping your dick in other pussy helps with that?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.”
I ripped off my shirt, getting up on my knees so that my full body was on display for him.
“YES! He fucking touched me. He fucking raped me, Adam. But that doesn’t mean he owned any part of me that you did. Don’t you see that I’m suffering without your touch? Don’t you see the mess you’ve made of me? I’m dying inside, Adam. I’m dying because the man I love is seeking out other women to make himself happy—to satisfy his own selfish needs. Well, I have needs too. When are you going to open up your eyes and see what’s right in front of you?”
He stared at my tits, then down at my stomach, focusing on that damn scar I couldn’t get rid of if I tried.
Slowly, the light of Adam’s eyes dimmed, replaced with the vacant stare I often got when Sabbath took over. It was Sabbath that got up from the bed, but it was Adam that was refusing to look at me another second.
“I got Church in the morning and a run tomorrow night. We’ll continue this conversation later.”
He started to walk away, and I clambered over the bed, getting tangled up in some sheets along the way as I reached out for him in utter desperation. All I wanted was to feel loved by him again, but he couldn’t even give me that. He was too consumed by his own fucked up thoughts to care about what I needed. “Adam, please. Don’t leave me again. Not like this. Not when I’m offering myself up to you, even after you screwed that whore. I need you. I fucking love you, you bastard!”
Faint tears raked over his eyes, but they were blinked away before they even had a chance to form.
He barely stilled in the doorway as I shouted after him, “Where the fuck are you going?”
His head hung in defeat, and for one brief second, the superficial pride of Sabbath faded away, replaced by the look of pure devotion I always felt when Adam looked my way. But just as fast as it appeared, it disappeared just as quickly, replaced with the cold hardness I’d grown so used to in the last few years.
“Anywhere but here.”
And then he left me… naked… alone… and stirring my own pot of rejection that now had some added spice to it… repulsion.
I may be the Prez’s Ol’ Lady, but that title meant nothing in his eyes.
No. I lost that respect the moment his brother stole it from my body. It was something I couldn’t take back if I tried.
But if Sabbath walking away taught me one thing, it was that respect wasn’t something you earned. It was something easily discarded and thrown away. So, if Sabbath lost all his respect for me over something I had no control over, then him cheating on me with all these women was the gauntlet being thrown.
Two can play this wicked game of his. And if Sabbath wanted to refuse to touch me, then I’d find someone who would—someone who could fulfill all the wicked desires I’d secretly kept locked away. I’d been too afraid to let out the seductive panther that was always pacing inside her cage. Adam’s actions opened the gilded cage he contained me in, and now that I was free, I was on the prowl and ready to strike.
Chapter Six
Snyder
It was hard not to notice that Sabbath didn’t sleep in his own bed last night. He kicked one of the prospects out of their room, commandeering it as his own personal sanctuary. I didn’t know what transpired between him and Shasta last night, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t fucking good.
He was all moody and full of hate this morning, and everyone and everything was setting his ass off.
“Where the fuck is everybody?” he roared, kicking over one of the chairs at the table. “I said nine o’clock.”
I looked at my watch. It was only eight forty-five.
“It’s not nine yet.”
He whipped around, glaring at me. “Did I tell you that you could talk, motherfucker?”