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“You can deny it all you want. You sound mad, you’re acting mad, and if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t still wear this to bed tonight.” He reaches over my exposed chest, where the robe hangs open over my nightgown, and picks up my wedding ring, which rests on my necklace. Lifting it and holding it in front of my face, turning it in his fingertips while he leans in and presses his cheek against my temple. His skin-on-skin contact makes my stomach clench and my palms turn clammy.

“It’s a part of my past. It reminds me not to go backward.” I yank it back, elbowing him away and berate my idiocy for still keeping this on and not covering it up properly. I make such stupid mistakes around him, and I’m already pissed and seething enough without him being a smart ass about it. “So, she’s fine then? You’re little mistress.” I divert his attention with bitchiness and throw him a cool look and raised brow. Soun