Read Misjudged (Death Dwellers #3.5) for Free Online

thought, bringing the cup to her mouth. Before she drank, Christopher snatched it from her, sloshing wine everywhere. What he didn’t slosh, he finished in a swallow.
    Meggie frowned and belched the candy she’d eaten. “You have your own drink. Why’d you take mine?”
    “Because if you keep fuckin’ drinkin’ you gonna be drunker than a motherfucker before I’m through with my bottle.”
    Meggie hiccupped, not arguing. She didn’t drink very often. Alcohol had never appealed to her much. Seeing the violent pig her stepfather would become made her even more leery of indulging too often. It didn’t affect Christopher…
    Groaning, Meggie halted her thoughts. What, besides Christopher, CJ, Patrick, and the club, interested her? She gripped the table. “I’m going to enroll in school and get a job waitressing or something.”
    Christopher studied her, drank from his bottle, and studied her again. “Yeah?”
    “I shouldn’t only be your wife,” she admitted with a hiccup-belch, then sniffed her wrist. His scent clung to her everywhere but it was strongest here where she’d massaged her skin at the pulse point he dabbed his cologne. Her nipples hardened at the smell and she squirmed. “I need to be more interesting than that.”
    Hurt pulled down his features and she squinted at him with blurry eyes. That hadn’t come out right. He swigged from the bottle again. “You right, baby,” he said quietly.
    “There’s nothing I love more than being your wife,” she amended, not wanting him to get the wrong sentiment behind her decision. She dropped her pounding head in her hands. “If we separate, I need to know how to take care of me and CJ.”
    His chair scraped against the floor and Meggie opened her eyes to see his glare. “Separate? What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? You ain’t happy bein’ my wife no more?”
    She was such a lightweight where alcohol was concerned. The wine had tasted good, so she’d chugged half of the twelve ounces in one, long swallow. Six ounces shouldn’t make her so lightheaded. Omigod, she couldn’t even drink like an adult. She threaded her fingers through her hair. “I live to be your wife. But Zoann’s a nurse. Bailey wants to be a psychiatrist and is in school, even pregnant. Kendall’s an attorney. You deserve a wife you can be proud of. I need to find a way to earn my own money.”
    That offended him even more and he stiffened. “You get your own fuckin’ money, Megan. From me. You got fuckin’ credit cards. A checking account.”
    “All in your name. Whatever you did so I can sign on your personal checks…well, fine, but I’m just a signor on your account. It isn’t fair to ask you for a joint account because I’m not putting money in it. Same with the credit cards. They’re in your name and I have no way to pay the bill, so they have to stay in your name.”
    Christopher lifted her chin and stared at her for long moments. His brow still creased, he leaned across the table and brushed his lips against hers. Various emotions filled his green eyes. Fear. Irritation. Concern. Love. Each and every one of them, she recognized because he opened himself to her and trusted her enough to show his vulnerability.
    “Why the fuck you talkin’ bout us separatin’? You leavin’ me?”
    “If you cheated. Yes.”
    Exasperation trumped everything else. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
    “That I love you with everything in me and seeing all those girls around you, knowing the Bobs are being around you a lot more lately, is killing me. I never thought you’d slept with April. With the way she hung around Val, it never occurred to me until she told me.” She swallowed down her tears. Christopher didn’t need to see them. He’d been so worried about her. He needed to see her strong. “I can’t…I won’t share you.” She made little circles on the table, her fingertip skating over the grooves. “You’re different. We’re different. I-I know why. V-Val