Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

“You’d what, Elena?” I mutter to myself, tapping my fingernails on the
counter. The diamond on my finger sparkles under the pendant lighting,
fracturing the shadows reflecting off of it. “He didn’t give you a choice. No
one ever does.”
When another five minutes tick by, it becomes obvious he isn’t looking
for me.
I slide off the barstool, toss my plum seed in the garbage, and go find him
instead.
Tiptoeing down the hall, I try my best not to step on any creaking
floorboards as I reach his office, tucked in a corner at the very end. Light
spills out from beneath the door, and I turn the knob gently, pushing it open
with the tip of my index finger.
He’s wearing navy scrubs, leaning over a huge wooden desk, one palm
flattened on the surface to support his weight, the other curled around a
crystal tumbler. His black hair hangs in wet strands, dripping onto his desk
and soaking the neck of his shirt, as if he’s just stepped out of the shower.
My throat tightens just at the sight of his backside, the way the muscles in
his biceps groan against the confines of his skin as if begging to break free.
God, what this man must look like naked.
A flash of red catches my eye as he shifts; it’s dull, splattered across the
front of his pant legs, but it’s there, taunting me.
Reminding me that I know very little about the man I share a life with,
and that it should terrify me.
Or looking for a way to escape.
“Leave, Elena.” His voice is a low rumble I feel inside my chest,
commanding and sharp as it slices right through me. “I’m not in the mood for
company.”
I should probably listen and find something else to do. Anything other
than indulge the desire pooling in my core.
“Your wife is hardly company,” I say, pinching my thigh with two fingers
in order to keep my voice from wavering. “And I’m bored.”
He sets the tumbler down, raising his head without turning to look at me.
“Bored?”
“Yeah,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “You
dropped me in this strange place and then ignored me completely.”
Swallowing over the mix of desire and nerves solidifying in my throat, I
take a step inside the office, toying with the fabric of my robe. It’s rose pink