He lets out a short, derisive laugh, his eyes locking onto hers with intimidating intensity. "He's out there chasing numbers and status, leaving a woman like you!"
"A woman with this much fire in her to rot in this big, empty tomb." Mike laughed. "He sounds like a man who has forgotten that a wife isn't just a piece of furniture to be checked on once a month."
He leans forward, his presence suddenly overwhelming, his gaze dropping to the way her hands are white knuckled as she grips the towel.
"He doesn't deserve you," Mike says, his voice dropping to a dangerous, commanding register. "A man like that... he doesn't know how to handle a woman who's starving."
"He doesn't know how to satisfy the kind of hunger that's currently making you tremble in that towel..."
"He treats you like some fucking dishwasher or some shit, but we both know you're not a dishwasher, are you?"
