I was laying on bed reading a book when I heard Solomon's car pull into the driveway. I sighed a mix of relief and irritation. In a few short minutes he walked into our bedroom. We made brief eye contact, but said nothing to each other. He began stripping out of his clothes. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes. His long muscular dark body came into view. I said nothing. He said nothing, but I could feel his eyes burning holes into me. The silence was deafening. He hung his suit jacket and pants in the closet before going into the bathroom to take a shower.
We've been arguing a lot the last couple of days, but last night was the first night we hadn't slept in the same bed in the six years we've been together. He stormed out at nine the night before and he was just now coming home at damn near midnight the next day.
Okay, so I was to blame for him leaving. I let my anger get the best of me again. The argument had gotten so intense I ended up slapping him hard across the face. For a moment I thought he would hit me back. I mean I slapped the hell out of one the most dangerous men in the world. A hired gun. A vicious assassin who has killed men for far lesser infractions.
"I'm sorry baby..." I tried to say shocked by my own actions.
"No!" He held up his hand cutting me off.
I swallowed hard waiting for retaliation, but there wasn't one. He just looked at me in disbelief.
He packed his bag and left the house.
I felt terrible. I went too far. All night I called his cell and it just rang and rang until it finally it just kept going to voicemail. That pissed me off because I knew he was purposely avoiding my calls. The woman he said he loved and would do anything for. He disappeared into the night without so much as a phone call. I spent most of the night up pacing and worrying.
I waited all night and all day for him to return one of my calls, or to come home. No text. No calls. Nothing. I wanted to cry, but I refuse to.
My sadness quickly morphed into irritation. He was being childish and selfish. What if there was an emergency? I wasn't used to being ignored. Not by him. Since the day we met I've had his undivided attention. I wasn't used to this.
He exited the bathroom with a towel round his waist and water dripping off his body.
He sat on top of the covers beside me in his boxers. The smell of Dior Sauvage body wash filled the air around us. It smelled so good on him. Part of me wanted to wrap my arms him and kiss him all over. Tell him I'm sorry and I missed him, but my pride wouldn't let me.
I ignored his intense gaze as I pretended to be all into my novel. He touched my buttery, caramel thigh. I moved away. He chuckled.
"Don't fuckin' touch me." I said with venom in my voice.
"Candice you have absolutely no right to be angry right now. You slapped me, remember?" His rich Nigerian accent in full bloom.
I said nothing as I turned my back to him.
"I'm not doing this with you." He pounced on me pulling me underneath him and pinning my hands above my head in one swift move. The book went crashing to the floor. His body rested between my legs pressing me into the mattress.
I involuntarily shuddered.
"What are you doing, Solomon? Get off me." I growled through clenched teeth, struggling against his hold.
"You drive me fucking crazy woman. I'm tired of fighting with you. We're better than this. That's why we're going to do this my way because your way isn't working for me. I've let you run this show for far too long."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" He put my wrist in one hand.
I hissed. "I can't stand you." I gasped when I felt his hand move between our bodies cupping my pantie clad pussy.
"I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, but I had to teach you a lesson."
"A lesson?" I groaned as he kissed a trail down my neck.
"Yes. See I realized I made a few mistakes in the way I've handled you." He leaned back to look at me.
I squinted my eyes at him. "Handle me? I don't need to be handled."