I looked straight at Owen, silently begging him to stop.
His eyes gleamed with that predatory look, and he mouthed two words at me:
Beg me.
I nodded.
He finally went still.
I rushed to speak into the phone, "Adrian, I was just in the shower. I hurried to answer and slipped and fell."
"Are you hurt?"
"Mm, I'm okay."
We talked only briefly, then I hung up as fast as I could.
The second the call ended, Owen didn't even give me time to catch my breath.
I had no choice but to plead, "Owen, please, no more."
"What do you call me?"
"Owen."
"Wrong."
"Baby?"
"Wrong."
"Darling?"
Still not right.
I was close to tears. Finally, my voice shaking, I whispered, "Please... husband."
But that only made things so much worse.
Ugh, Owen is such a liar.
Even so, something inside me felt li
