The Real Mrs. Price

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The Real Mrs. Price Page 26

by J. D. Mason


  Marlowe frowned. “What the hell does that mean? Why can’t you talk normal?”

  “Like you?” He smiled seductively.

  Her heart pounded being this close to him again, resurrecting feelings it had no business bringing to the surface. She’d dismissed him from her mind, body, and soul, and he’d turned into nothing more than a somewhat pleasant nightmare.

  “I’m through with you.” Marlowe was angry, and she let him see it. “I don’t want you anymore. Maybe I never did.”

  The warmth emanating from him wafted over to her, caressed her.

  “There’s no place for you in my life,” he said. “There’s a part of me that I can never share with you, that I never want you to see, Marlowe.”

  “Too late. I’ve seen it already.”

  He shook his head. “No, you haven’t,” he said patiently. “You won’t. Not if I can help it.”

  “And what do you think I’m supposed to do with the part of you that’s left?”

  “You can let me in, Marlowe.”

  The devil was asking for permission to come in?

  She eyed him suspiciously. Why did he say it like that? Why was he looking at her like that? His voice resonated through her in ways that weren’t natural, warming her, arousing her.

  “I am not always a monster. You showed me that. I don’t have to be. I can be the man that I was when it was just us, me and you.” Emotion—not sarcasm or deceit, but real emotion filled his eyes, genuine, inviting, pleading. “I’ve resolved myself to the fact that my life will never be what you need, baby, but I do love the idea of us. And I’d like to wallow in it a while longer.”

  He was saying all the right things, putting out the right vibe, and Marlowe could feel herself begin to melt. She wanted him—them together. Your head, Marlowe. Not your heart. Use your head.

  Tears filled her eyes. “But what does that mean for me? I get half of you? A third?”

  He thought before answering. “It means that when I’m here, I’m all the way here. When I’m here, I’ll offer you all that I have, and I’ll be exactly who you need me to be.”

  He was so convincing, so compelling, and she desperately wanted to buy into the beauty of his promise. He seemed to have needed to say it as much as she’d needed to hear it. But a question remained.

  “And when you’re not here, Plato,” she asked shakily, “then what am I supposed to do?” Wait to see him being arrested on the news? Wait to find out that he’s dead?

  “You’re supposed to know that I want to be here, that I’m rushing to get back to you, and that I’m lonely without you. I crave you. I ache for you, and all I want to do is to put my arms around you and hold you close.”

  “That’s supposed to be enough?”

  “God! I hope so.”

  Did he really expect that she was supposed to be satisfied with only a part of him?

  “I can’t,” she said, letting the tears fall. “I can’t love part-time. I can’t be loved part-time. I deserve better than that.”

  He nodded. “I agree. I agree wholeheartedly, baby girl. You most certainly do and you are more than I deserve.”

  Without saying another word, Plato leaned in close, pressed his warm lips against hers, wrapped one strong arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. Marlowe’s body betrayed her, dissolved into his, hungrily mated her tongue with his.

  “Whatever you want,” he whispered after breaking the seal of his kiss. “Whatever you need, Marlowe, if I can give it to you, I will. If I can be it for you, I’ll be it.”

  She wanted to tell him to stop. Stop the killing. Stop working for people who paid him to kill. She wanted to tell him, but Marlowe knew better. He wouldn’t stop. Not until he was good and ready. It was the nature of him. Marlowe could accept it. Or she could let him go.

  “Can I come inside?” he whispered, holding her close.

  She stepped back, stared long and hard at his handsome face, took hold of one of his big old hands, and sighed. Your head, Marlowe. “You hungry?” she asked, leading him inside. “I’ve got some chicken in the refrigerator.”

  ALSO BY J. D. MASON

  And on the Eighth Day She Rested

  One Day I Saw a Black King

  Don’t Want No Sugar

  This Fire Down in My Soul

  You Gotta Sin to Get Saved

  That Devil’s No Friend of Mine

  Take Your Pleasure Where You Find It

  Somebody Pick Up My Pieces

  Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

  Drop Dead, Gorgeous

  Crazy, Sexy, Revenge

  About the Author

  J. D. Mason is the author of Crazy, Sexy, Revenge; Drop Dead, Gorgeous; Beautiful, Dirty, Rich; Somebody Pick Up My Pieces; Take Your Pleasure Where You Find It; That Devil’s No Friend of Mine; You Gotta Sin to Get Saved; This Fire Down in My Soul; Don’t Want No Sugar; And on the Eighth Day She Rested; and One Day I Saw a Black King. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her two children. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Drowning on Dry Land

  Six Months Later …

  Bone Talk

  The Ritual Begins

  Shaking This Tree

  To Be Well

  Sharpen Your Knife

  Never, Ever Break Down

  Hold Back the River

  Black Gypsy

  Where You Hide

  Can’t Buy a Thrill

  Belly of the Whale

  Fresh Poison

  Clear a Space

  Open Your Eyes

  Hungry Work

  It’s Still Burning

  When I’m Alone with You

  Then I’m Cool

  You Go Hard

  Life Got in Between

  In the Stable

  The Faithful

  Taking in the Shape

  Bad Moon

  Tell You My Sins

  Like a Dog

  By Moonlight

  Born Sick

  Worshipped

  Against the Tide

  Wash Out the Pain

  Go Through Hell

  Evil Coming Through

  Creepin’ In

  The One You Need

  You Go Hard

  Keeps Me Awake

  But Your Ghost

  Worship Her

  Poison

  True Face

  To the River

  Another Skin

  Close to Me

  Deathless Death

  Keeps Me Awake

  I Never Learned

  Be Well

  Let Us Wander

  A Sacrifice

  In Another You

  One Month Later …

  Let Me Give You My Life

  Also by J. D. Mason

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THE REAL MRS. PRICE. Copyright © 2016 by J. D. Mason. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by David Curtis

  Cover photograph © Netfalls—Remy Musses and JStudio/Shutterstock

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-05225-4 (trade paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-4668-5375-1 (e-book)

 
; e-ISBN 9781466853751

  Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].

  First Edition: May 2016

 

 

 


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