I thought she was angry before, but hell if my words don’t bring more anger out. She pushes her face closer to mine and lets loose. “You want honest? I’m so angry with you right now. I was happy by myself, happy without a man, and then you came along. I just wanted some fun, but you turned it into more and chased the shit out of me until I gave in. So I took a chance on you and I told you what I went through with Lennon. I fucking shared that with you, so you knew how I felt; that I can’t go through that kind of relationship again. And I believed you when you said we’d be different. And so, I fell for you. And you didn’t follow through!”

The passion behind her words blows me away.

She’s in this with me.

I grab her arm and pull her against me. “How didn’t I follow through?” I demand while putting both arms around her and sliding my hands down to her ass. Our lips are almost touching and while I know I’m going to kiss her soon, I’m delaying so I can hear what she has to say. I need to know how I’ve let her down so that I never do it again.

An angry moan falls from her lips. “I know it may sound pathetic, but I need to know I come first to you. It hurts too much when I think otherwise.”

It’s her fears of coming second best that are driving all this. And while I think she’s being slightly irrational, I understand that when you fear something, everything is magnified and easily blown out of proportion.

I move one of my hands to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m listening to everything you’re saying, and I won’t let you down again.”

My apology seems to make its way into her heart because her body softens against mine and she says, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you either.”

I finally give in to my desire and press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth and lets me in, and I spend the next couple of minutes showing her with my lips and tongue how much I want her. This kiss is just what we need; it’s our way of expressing what our words can’t always say.

When we end the kiss, she holds my gaze and whispers, “Thank you.”

I smile. “You need to do something for me, too.”

“Please don’t turn bitchy on me again. You could rip a man’s heart out with that shit.”

A hint of a smile crosses her lips. “I’m sorry. I try so hard not to flip that switch but it just happens, and I have no control over it.”

I place my hand against my heart. “Well, it’s still intact so we’re all good for now,” I say with a grin.

My joke lightens the mood and a full-blown smile graces her face. “Thank God for that, huh?”

“Can you do one other thing for me?” I ask, desperate for this request to be fulfilled.

“What now?” She fakes exasperation and waits to hear what I want.

Bending my lips to her ear, I beg, “Can you take your clothes off ‘cause I’ve been staring at those pants for too long now and I’m sick of them.”

The next day I’m restless. I’ve finished editing all the Crave photos and while there are lots of things I could be doing, none of them interest me, so I spend most of the day sitting in the sun with a good book and my earplugs in. Just after lunch I’m almost asleep when Lennon shatters my peace and quiet. He joins me on my balcony and scares the shit out of me because I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in my apartment.

Sitting up, I glare at him while I rip my earplugs out. “Why are you letting yourself in? And why the hell do you still have a key?” I snap.

“I’ve been banging on your front door for a good five minutes, and I still have a key, because my name is still on the deed.”

I stand and put my hand out. “Give me that key,” I demand, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

Shaking his head, he argues with me. “No, I have as much right to this key as you do.”

My eyes widen. “No, you don’t! You haven’t wanted anything to do with that key for more than six months, Lennon, so don’t come back here now when I’m finally moving on, and try to stir up shit.” I click my fingers, motioning for him to give me the damn key.

He folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not trying to stir up shit. I simply want my wife back.”

“It’s funny how you only want me now that someone else has me.”

Rolling his eyes, he mutters, “I didn’t even know you two were together, Presley.”

“Well, we are together, so you should just leave and never come back. I’m going through with this divorce, and I’m committed to Jett. You need to listen to me and hear what I’m saying.” My voice is as firm as I can make it and I hope like hell he’s listening.

He shifts on his feet but doesn’t move from his spot, his arms still folded across his chest. “Tell me, baby, what do you think will be different between you and Jett to you and me? He lives the same lifestyle I do so nothing will change there, and you’ll still have groupies to deal with.”

I ignore his use of the word ‘baby’. It’s unlikely he’ll listen to me if I tell him again not to use it. Lennon does what Lennon wants to do. “Jett knows I won’t put up with the same kind of behaviour I put up with from you.”

His brows rise. “What fucking behaviour? I didn’t cheat on you, I didn’t abuse you . . . what the fuck did I do to you?”