AN AFFAIR WITH MY HUSBAND (TWO)

❛Tell me something girl, are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need more? Is there something else you're searching for? ❜ — Bradley Cooper/Shallow.

                        ***

I could easily attribute my feelings to the alcohol, but the coldness in his eyes as he pushed me away gently told a different story.

“Get off.” He said.

At first, I pretended that I didn't hear and rubbed my butt gently against him. Stifling a groan, he held my wrists firmly. “Get off of me,” Tobias repeated through gritted teeth.

As much as I would rather drop dead than admit this, Stacy was right. My pride was on the line. People see strippers as if they have no dignity, and they're right. I had no dignity left, but I still had my pride intact.

“Fine.” I snapped, getting off him.

“You can leave,” he added softly. Even if he was being mean, his voice still sounded intoxicatingly good.

“No, I’m not leaving,” I retorted, grabbing his half-drunk glass and gulping it down before plopping into the chair opposite him, coffee table dividing us.

He sat up. “Don't make me call security on you.”

“Go ahead then, but first, why did you come here if you knew you didn't need a stripper?”

His brows furrowed. “I just want to be left alone—”

“Go to a damn hotel then! I'm not leaving here.”

“I'll pay you double to leave.”

“Too small, triple it.”

“Seriously?”

“It's even too small. I'll leave after I finish this drink, yeah?”

“I just need space; you have no idea how messed up my life is right now.”

“That's cute. Your problems? They’re just for a fleeting moment. You'll probably get your shit together soon. Mine's been messed up since the day I came to this earth.”

I knew I might be overstepping his boundaries, but I wasn't about to let him embarrass me either.

“Tell me then.” He shrugged, filling his glass with vodka from the table. From the empty bottle on the floor, I could tell he’d been drinking for a while, yet he still looked and acted sober.

I gulped down my glass and let him pour another as he continued. “If your life is more messed up than mine, I may let you do your thing and pay four times the amount.” Tobias smirked.

He was probably bored drinking alone and wanted something, or someone, to distract him. But I didn't care. I had the chance to earn six grand in one night, dance for this hottie, keep my pride intact, and elevate my status. That was all I cared about—me.

“Challenge accepted.” I giggled, my head slowly tilting as I felt the booze kicking in.

“Keep it real,” he shrugged.

“I’m not a writer; I don’t have time to craft stories. My mom was a whore, literally. I was just one of those crazy-ass kids who didn’t wanna get aborted, so she kept me.” I glanced at him as I brought the cup's rim to my lips while he listened intently. I took a sip, continuing my “autobiography.” “I never met my dad, so I never got to ask him why he didn’t use protection. Anyway, during my sophomore year of high school, my mom's boyfriend took advantage of me. I got pregnant, and my mom kicked me out when the bitch heard that the baby daddy was her boyfriend. I let myself get hit by a car and had a miscarriage, then I went back home.”

“Wait… Sorry for interrupting, but what?” he shot back, incredulity written all over his face.

“You heard me. I'm sick, I know,” I chuckled and cleared my throat before going on. “My mom broke up with her boyfriend because the dog gave her an STD. Eventually, she started stripping. She wouldn’t give me a dime, and I was desperate for financial independence, so I worked multiple jobs until my mom got killed in a mafia raid at the club. I couldn't afford her funeral, so I think some lab took her or something. Her boss made me work in her place because she owed him big time, and he threatened to kill me. I worked my ass off for two years, got paid well, and when I finally paid off her debt, I changed cities and got a job here. Three years later, I'm still here, and my ex-boyfriend just died today, curse his wretched soul.” I smiled, guzzling down the rest of my drink before opening another bottle.

I could feel the alcohol slowly take control of my body as the atmosphere felt hot. I didn’t know if I should regret drinking, but as long as it helped me forget that I had murdered two people—where the cops could probably be searching for me soon—I just wanted to forget it. His eyes seemed particularly calm, and I hated how he looked intrigued yet glanced at me with an expression I quickly assumed to be pity.

Tobias blinked, letting out a deep breath, probably traumatized by my story. If I actually documented the events of my life, I’d have to add a severe content warning for each chapter. That’s how messed up it was.

“You're pretty strong, you know. That’s amazing. And here I am, drinking over the fact my grandmother wants me to marry some girl I haven’t met,” he chuckled.

As he spoke, I barely caught his words, my eyes glued to his lips. I wanted them on mine, and I took off my heels, which suddenly felt uncomfortable. I got up and stumbled to the side; he moved to help me, but I shook my head and walked over before straddling him again.

The shock registered on his face, but he gently held my waist, steadying me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His eyes were fixed on mine, probably because he was avoiding the view of my breasts, which were just one button away from spilling out. He was so gentle, calm, and surprisingly, I felt safe with him. Other men I’d been around always looked so dangerous. He had this flare for switching sides when needed.

He let me unbutton his collar, and I leaned in, trailing kisses over his neck. I felt him throb against me as his grip on my waist tightened, and he groaned, sending thrills racing through my body.

“What if I told you that I murdered my boyfriend and his mistress?” I whispered against his ear.

Tobias laughed. “You’re really full of surprises, Princess.”

I faked a frown, stopping my kisses, one hand still on his neck. I caressed his lips gently with my thumb. “Just call me Gianna,” I slurred.

“As you wish, Gianna,” he replied.

I could feel myself getting aroused by the way he called my name.

He wasn’t objecting; he just let me do my thing. It was as if the clear desire in my eyes had communicated what I wanted, and he claimed my lips softly.

My toes curled as my head reeled with pleasure. His soft, warm lips melded with mine, creating sensations I couldn’t explain, and I knew I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him. I’d been with multiple men before, and while I usually wanted just to get it done and get paid, he was different. Cliché, but it felt special—the gentleness was new to me.

He pulled away briskly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that—”

I cut him off with another kiss, deeper this time before breaking it to bury my face in his neck, inhaling his intoxicating cologne.

“I want you to fuck me, Tobias,” I drowsily confessed, spilling my thoughts.

Instead of pushing me away, he whispered back, “I’ll only sleep with you if we were married.”

I rolled my eyes and practically whined, “Do it, then. Marry me.”