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Reuben returned and climbed into bed. She rolled toward him and he drew her close, tucking her into his side.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I miss Colin,” she told him.
Then she tensed. Oh, shoot. She hadn’t meant to say that.
He rolled her over onto her back, looming over her. “Who the fuck is Colin?”
34
Reuben was feeling murderous.
Who the fuck was Colin and why was she missing him? Her attention should be entirely on him.
Yes, he knew he was a jealous prick.
But he wasn’t about to change. Especially when it came to her.
So this Colin bastard was going to have to die.
“I’ll fucking kill him.”
Tears instantly filled her eyes.
Oh fuck.
Why did she look so devastated? Did she love him? That was going to be a problem.
Reuben Jones didn’t share.
“Fine, I won’t fucking kill him,” he muttered. “But he’s out of your life for good, understand me? What are you doing sleeping with him?”
“He makes me feel good.”
Murderous. Rage.
It was hot and red and violent.
“I make you feel good,” he thundered.
“Well, yes, of course. But I’m just so used to sleeping with him. I understand if you don’t want to sleep with him. It will . . . it will just take me a while to get used to going to sleep without him to cuddle.”
He cuddled her to sleep each night?
This was fucking inconceivable. How had he not known?
“Why did you not say something?” he asked.
She shrugged, looking sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was embarrassed about my dependence on him. I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman. I should be able to go to sleep without my emotional support squishy.”
“I’m going to be your emotional support squishy.”
Then he heard what he’d just said and paused.
Faith let out a giggle. “You’re going to be my what?”
“Your emotional support squishy?” he asked, confused.
