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Wendy was slightly surprised to find herself not being offended and angry at Axe overstepping and bulldozing around in her life the way he did.
He kicked and fought like a mountain lion for her attention and well-being. The man who cut off holidays, shelled out millions, unafraid of asking for her advice, begging for her advice, running down her door, unapologetic in needing her.
He needed her.
He didn’t whine, snivel, or scheme for her attention.
Well, he could scheme with the best of them, but he roared, went to war, really came through. Oh, he fucked up, fucked up big, but he made up big.
Yeah, the sports car, the millions… it was pocket change to him.
The apologies were not. Raw heartfelt regret and apologies were not something Wendy frequently got served with. Her marriage was strife with I’m sorry you feel that way. Never I’m sorry for hurting you.
It was always I had my reasons. Never My reasons were not good enough and I fucked up.
Like now. Laying on her couch, listening to the man who had been her best friend of a decade confess it burned him through to see her with someone else.
The intensity and utter dedication of his statement left her feeling moored and anchored at the same time.
He was her Marcus Antonius, her general, her war-dog. His domineering and possessive nature made her feel more desired and sexy and adored than Chuck’s submissive adoration ever had.
Chuck always made her feel like she was worth kneeling for.
Axe made her feel like she was worth killing for, and it stoked a primal part of her that she rarely dared to acknowledge.
There was a reason she found a home at AxeCap. She was a predator, a killer, a seasoned hunter.
Axe had long since proved himself a worthy mate.