Wife. Daughter. Murderer?
I strip out of my clothes and step into the tub, taking my time because the water is hot enough to burn. My toes protest, as does the rest of my skin as I sink in inch by slow inch. Once Iâm totally submerged, I ease back and rest my head on the edge of the tub and close my eyes.
The house is quiet. A perfect silence that is only shattered by the occasional cars or emergency sirens on the neighboring main street.
Thatâs something else a life spent seaside would eliminate. The idea of it only grows more appealing the longer I have to imagine it. Glennâs death is a freedom Iâve never known or known to want. Now, I crave it.
Cal. As much as I donât want to have to rely on another person, especially another man, Iâm glad I found him. From the moment we started talking, I trusted him. Heâs a consummate professional, which is evident by the way he carries himself and his no-nonsense approach. Heâs direct without being rude. The confidence is more than appealing.
Thoughts of Glennâs death take a back seat as I recall Calâs tall, lean, sexy form. Dark, curly hair shadowing carved features and eyes so deeply onyx as to be endless.
A girl could get lost in eyes like that.
I didnât intend to do any such thing though. Once I am through with this dead-end marriage, I donât plan to make the same mistake again. Between living with my mother throughout childhood and jumping straight into a controlling marriage, Iâm going to stay happily single and in complete control of my own life.
But that doesnât mean I wonât entertain a fantasy or two.
Calâs handsome face doesnât leave my mindâs eye as my hand slips beneath the water and finds its way down my body to the apex of my thighs. Iâve never had an orgasm that I didnât bring about by myself, so the process isnât foreign. Glenn just doesnât know how to take care of a woman. Heâs a one-trick pony, and this girl requires more than a lackadaisical wham bam thank you, maâam.