Of course my eyes went right to Paxton. Yup. He heard it, too. “You do? What do you mean?” I questioned in the same laid-back tone that she used, trying not to make a big deal about it.
“You didn’t never color with us before.”
“I didn’t?”
“Uh-uh. Did she, Phi?”
“Nope, and you didn’t wake us up with Mr. Shark either,” Ophelia helped. She never looked up from her page on the coffee table, either. A green crayon colored vigorously out of the lines.
“That’s a pig,” I said with twisted eyebrows.
“But his name is Mr. Shark,” she explained with great determination. Like I should have known that.
“Oh, gotcha.”
“Bedtime, ladybugs,” Paxton called from his office. He stood to tuck them in and they both complained. They needed to finish their pictures.
“Let’s go. Candace brought you a new book,” I said, bribing them with entertainment.
“It’s not a new book,” Paxton cockily said as if he found pleasure in putting me in my place. I didn’t know. She didn’t say anything. She just shoved it in my hand and said she had to go.
“Okay?” I replied with a question. I couldn’t read his mind. Geesh.
“It’s their book club book. It’s your job to order the books. You’re supposed to pass them out on Sunday nights. You know. Since you’re the only mother in the neighborhood that doesn’t work,” he smartly said. Like my job of being his wife was less adequate than his landscaping business. I should have gotten paid a thousand bucks a day for putting up with his narcissistic ass.
“Then me and Phi, and Collin, and Chance have a circle day, and eat cake,” Ophelia explained.
“They’re in a neighborhood book club? Why?”
“Pick up the crayons, Rowan. Bedtime,” Paxton said while he looked at me with annoyance. “Because they’re kids. They need stimulation.”
“So do I, but not twenty-four-seven.”
“S.T.O. P.”
He didn’t say it, but I read it loud and clear. Every letter that he mouthed to me.
“Sorry, but I don’t think all this stimulation is necessary. Let’s go Clydes.”
“Clydes? What the hell is that? You know what? Never mind. Forget it. I don’t even care. Come on Phi, I mean Ophelia. Clean up.”
“Daddy has to do it then you,” Ophelia explained to me. I only knew what she meant by osmosis. Every night that I had been there so far, he put them to bed, and I came after him.
“Let’s go read in one bed or the other, though,” I countered.
“Well, we don’t do it like that. You have to read it to me first because it’s my turn,” Rowan said, serious expression to match the explanation. Spitting image of her father. Rowan would, no doubt, grow up to be a leader.
“Well, that’s dumb. I’m only reading it once. If it’s your turn to go first, Phi can jump in your bed. Now move it,” I ordered while I took a step to the coffee table and helped Ophelia get the crayons in the box. Both girls happily got up and skipped away.
Paxton grabbed the back of my shirt before I could escape with them. He yelled for them to brush their teeth while he pulled me tight against his body. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you? Stop doing that. You have no say in what goes on in this house. I need you to remember that, Gabriella. I’m begging you with everything in me. Back down.”
“Why, Paxton? Because you would rather I didn’t color Cinderella with my girls? What would I normally be doing at this time?”
As soon as his lips touched my neck, my eyes automatically closed. Warm words were spoken on my skin and emotions I didn’t understand, took over.
“It’s Sunday night. You sweep and mop the kitchen on Sunday nights. You do a load of laundry, and clean up while I put the girls to bed. And again, you read the weekly book to each of the girls. That’s your bonding time.”
“You have no clue what that even means.” With that, I gathered my emotions and walked away. I didn’t wait for Paxton to go tuck them in first. I crawled in bed with them. Right between them, holding them close. From what I had gathered so far, I had a lot of making up to do. Why? Why didn’t I used to color with them? I always loved to color. Just like everything else, I knew that to be a fact, too. How? Who knows? I just did.
Chapter Thirteen
With churning thoughts about who I was, where I came from, and what I was supposed to do next, I flipped on my tablet.
The poem fit my mood. Confusion spoken about through a storm. Dark clouds and swirling winds gathered with the chaos.
“Why did you tell me that?”
My eyes turned to Paxton, arms crossed with a stern, expression. I dropped the tablet and stared with hooded eyes.
I knew what he spoke of, but I pretended that I didn’t. “Tell you what?”
“Who hurt you, Gabriella? Who did that to you?”
I smiled at him, but it wasn’t a sad smile. More out of surprise. Well, I’ll be. Paxton Pierce did have a soft spot.
“Rod and Dink. I don’t know. I was ten. That’s all I remembered.”
“But you’re sure? You know that happened. Maybe you’re wrong.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think I am. It was too real. Too raw.”
My eyes watched him carefully stroll over to me. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge, and his fingers ran through his hair.
“I keep thinking about the girls. I would fucking kill someone. Where was your mom, your dad, who protected you, Gabriella?” he asked with an extremely agitated tone. Wow. This really bothered him.
“Why don’t you know anything about me?”
“I never asked. I don’t want to know, but you keep telling me anyway.”
“But why? You’re so mean to me.”
“I’m not mean.”
I snorted with that one. “You’re mean.”
“But you never thought that before. You did it. Every-thing that we agreed on. You did it.”
“What did we agree on? Was I stupid?”
“Desperate,” Paxton said in a quiet tone. He sounded sad, like thoughts were permeating his mind. Thoughts he didn’t want to think about. At least that’s how I saw it.
“I don’t understand what that means.”
I didn’t understand it any more after that. I didn’t understand Paxton, and I didn’t understand what the hell was up with him. Paxton didn’t elaborate on what it meant. He moved my sleeping tablet and hovered above me.
I waited for him to speak, say something, anything while he stared down at me, his own desperation, illuminating in his eyes. Our lips meeting were the only answers I got from Paxton. Of course, that confused me even more. His kiss was so emotional, and I knew Paxton fought his own demons. Demons that were trying to get to me. The ones that wanted me to remember. The ones he wanted me to forget.
Paxton was still Paxton. Even with this new sense of fucked-upness, he needed control. Control of something that didn’t need much persuasion.
“I need to spank you, Gabriella,” he said in a despairing tone, trying to fight it. He lost.
“Why?” I questioned as his tongue dove back into my mouth.
Another make-out session and he answered. “It’s what we do. You were bad.”
“I’m twenty-five,” I stated in a pant while my hips twisted into his erection hidden behind thin basketball shorts.
“I need you to listen to me, Gabriella. Do as I say. Please,” Paxton begged with an anxious attempt to get me to cooperate. Desperate words matched his tense expression.
I looked into the eyes of a different man. Something was unquestionably different. “Okay.”
“Stop talking.”
“Why? Why do you always want me to be quiet when we’re alone?”
Paxton replied with a frown and a finger over my lips. A warning for me to stop.
“Come here. Bend over my lap.”
My heart pounded a little faster as I dopamine rushed through my veins. The faint throb I’d felt between my legs moments before turned into a frantic pulsation. Even with the way Paxton made me feel smaller, I laid it on thick. I rose to my knees, letting my fingers glide through the back of his hair while my lips met his. He was taken back a little, I could tell. My tongue thrust into his mouth, dancing with his while his hand glided up the back of my leg. I moaned once and stopped to do as I was told. To bend over his lap and take my punishment.