Don’t Pretend I’m Yours Read Online Natasha Anders

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
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She was aware of him still watching her from his position by the patio door, but refused to look at him as she picked up her toiletry bag and retreated to the massive en-suite.

She paused for a moment to take in the sheer magnificence of the bathroom. Lilah was used to luxury and beauty in her surroundings, but this place was next level. The massive soaker tub, set right in front of the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the patio and ocean, tempted her. But if she could see Ben’s shadowy figure out on the patio, outlined in the blue light from the pool, then he could definitely see her, as evidenced by the smug wave he sent her. There wasn’t a lot of room to hide in the brightly-lit bathroom, but the shower stall offered some privacy.

She sent him a glare, before dropping a regretful look at the tub, and trudging to the shower. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he’d turned his back on her and as she watched, he disappeared from view, probably to climb into the pool.

Feeling a little more comfortable with stripping down now that he wasn’t watching, she dragged off her wrinkled slip dress and underwear and tossed it into the hamper, before adjusting the water temperature and climbing beneath the spray.

Despite wanting to linger, she made quick work of her shower, concerned that Ben would finish his swim—or whatever he was doing—before she was done.

Despite the brevity of the shower, she still felt refreshed afterward. When a sneak peek from the stall didn’t reveal her husband’s unwanted presence in the bathroom, she quickly wrapped a thick fluffy towel around her body and then another, turban-style, around her hair, before stepping into the bathroom.

She picked her toiletry bag up from where she’d left it on the wooden bench next to the bath and neatly lined her cosmetics and toiletries up on the marble vanity top. She smoothed her luxurious almond-scented lotion all over her body, and then moved on to cleansing and moisturizing her face.

The soothing routine settled her nerves and she felt almost relaxed by the time she slid the door between bathroom and bedroom open.

“Why are you wearing another t-shirt when you have a metric fuckton of lacy, frilly things in your suitcase?” Ben’s deep voice immediately demanded to know.

Her eyes flew to the patio door, where he stood—a silhouette backlit by blue light—dripping on the tiled patio floor. She couldn’t see his face, but his big looming body was outlined in exquisite detail. He had a towel clutched in one hand.

“Did you go through my bag?” she asked, outraged.

He snorted in response to that and the sound was infuriatingly dismissive.

“No. You’re the one who rifles through other people’s bags. You stole my shirt, remember? Your bag, however, was left open with half of the contents strewn across the floor. There are no maids to magically pick up after you here, Lilah. So if you leave your shite on the floor, that’s where it’s staying.”

Her eyes flew to her open suitcase. In her rush she had rummaged through her bag and—after finding what she’d been searching for—she’d abandoned everything else and hauled butt to the bathroom.

But she’d been careless in her haste and, sure enough, several filmy nighties were dotted around the floor like white, crumpled tissue paper.

“I was in a hurry,” she muttered, hoping he would let it go at that.

She ambled over to her bag, not wanting to seem too eager to get it all tucked away out of sight again, and knelt on the rug to shove everything back in the back.

“You’re going to wrinkle everything,” he warned her and she shrugged.

“I’m too tired to unpack the bag tonight. I’ll do it in the morning.”

“So why do you have those sexy, frothy bits of nothing packed anyway? Planning to seduce me?”

“B-Blake packed them.” God, so much deception. Lilah was concerned she wouldn’t be able to keep this twisted web of lies straight. “She doesn’t know the real reason behind this wedding.”

“Bullshit.” The rasp in his voice roughened even more as his voice deepened and Lilah’s throat went dry at the sexiness of it. His face was in shadow, but she could see every inch of the hard, perfectly proportioned body that he was so lazily toweling. Her breathing quickened as she watched the towel sweep up the hard plane of his stomach toward the perfectly proportioned six pack above it and then down again.

He was still speaking and she stifled a moan of frustration when his words registered. “You bought those pretty, filmy things for me, didn’t you, Lilah? For us.”

“No. Blake bought them.” It was an embarrassingly weak lie delivered in a voice that lacked anything resembling conviction.

The movement of his hand paused and he stepped out of the darkness and into the brightly lit room.


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