The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,126

they should be, my breathing evening out, and though my nerves buzz, I find strength in my own words. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid—”

“Yes, you do. You like me insecure and weak. That way, you can coerce me into anything and make me believe it’s what I want.”

“You’re talking crazy, Amelia. Frankly, I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but what you’re saying concerns me.”

It’s taking everything in me not to fight him off, to try to pull away again, but that’s what he wants. He loves the struggle of emotionally wrestling with his prey, of fighting for the win. I keep my arms and hands limp. “You have five seconds to let me go,” I say.

“Then what? You’ll go to the police? You’d look like a fool charging your own husband with rape.”

“Five.”

He shakes his head at me. “You’ve lost it. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Four.”

“You’re not acting like the woman I married. You think I can’t get any twenty-year-old I want? And I was willing to take you back?”

His words sting, even if I know that’s the only reason he says them—to hurt me. Even if I don’t love him anymore. I clear my throat. “Three.”

We both startle at a knock on the door. “Amelia. It’s me.”

My breath catches. The deep voice is clear, calm.

“Andrew,” Reggie growls under his breath. He cuts his gaze to me. “Don’t say a word.”

My heart hammers. “He knows I’m in here,” I say. “We were supposed to meet tonight.”

“Amelia?” Andrew calls. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. Please open the door.”

I hear the emotion in his words. I desperately want to see his face, to tell him I need him. I open my mouth to call out, but Reggie clamps a hand over it and the other around the back of my head.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says. I could practically get buzzed off his pungent, bourbon-soaked breath. “This isn’t his business.”

“I’m not leaving, Amelia,” Andrew says, trying the handle. “Not until we talk.”

“Huh.” Reggie digs his fingers into my cheeks. “Trouble in paradise?”

I shake my head hard.

“Sure sounds like there is.” His jaw ticks as he stares behind me at the front door. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. “Answer the door,” he says.

I widen my eyes. Andrew’ll fly off the handle if he finds Reggie in here, trying to intimidate me. Doesn’t Reggie realize how badly Andrew could hurt him?

“Tell him you don’t forgive him,” Reggie says. “Send him on his way. For good.”

I choke back a sob and shake my head again. Andrew won’t buy it. He’s too stubborn.

“And make it convincing,” Reggie says, as if reading my mind. “Because if he suspects I’m in here, he’ll come after me like he did at the flea market. I don’t think I need to tell you what’ll happen if he so much as plucks a hair off my head.”

I stare at Reggie as the truth sinks in. He does know how badly Andrew can hurt him. Andrew warned me he never wanted to cross paths with Reggie again—because he can’t afford to get physical. If he does, Reggie would press charges in a heartbeat. If not out of wounded pride, then to get Andrew out of the picture.

“I already have footage of him grabbing me,” Reggie says, calmer now. “That, plus an arrest charge, would be enough to take his daughter away.”

Bell. Footage. What? My throat closes. This is my fault. I should’ve been more aware this past month. Reggie’s fallback plan is always blackmail. Intimidation. Extortion. Of course he’s been keeping tabs on us, accumulating anything he can use. I suck in a breath as best I can with his hand on my mouth—and nod.

Reggie releases me. “I’ll be listening.”

I work out the ache in my jaw and stagger down the hall. As much as it kills me, Andrew can’t know Reggie’s here. He told me himself—he treats an asshole like an asshole, and that’s exactly what Reggie is. Andrew’s threatened to kick Reggie’s ass for less. I’ve heard it with my own ears. I have no idea how far he’d go in the heat of the moment, especially finding Reggie in my home. Reggie knows it too. I tighten the sash of my robe, inhale deeply, and open the door.

Andrew’s leaning both arms on the doorway. He looks me over. “Finally. I was getting worried.”

“Hi.” My voice is scratchy, so I clear my throat. “Sorry, I