Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Looking for me?”
She screams, scrambling back and hitting the headboard with a hand on her heart. “Jesus Christ, Lachlan! What the hell?”
I get up and open the blinds, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Lyla doesn’t even let me get a word in. She throws the covers off, gets out of bed, and heads to the bathroom before I even have a chance to make it back to the chair. I hear the toilet flush, the faucet turn on and off, and the shower start running.
I wonder if she realizes she didn’t take any clothes with her. She’s probably used to walking around naked. I shut my eyes and take a breath. Do not picture her naked right now. If I start, I’ll do something stupid, and I can’t afford to fuck her. I’m definitely going to. I’ll need to jerk off a few times before, so I don’t come in a second. That’s how long it’s been. Still, soon we’ll have a marriage to consummate. I try really hard to focus on emails again, and then try even harder not to picture myself walking into the bathroom and fucking her against the shower wall.
The water turns off, and sure enough, a minute later, she opens the door wrapped in a towel. I should look away. A decent man might, but she took my decency with her when she left me lying in a hospital bed three years ago. She walks into the closet, grabs underwear and a sports bra, and sets it on top of the built-in drawer. She turns and locates some clothes and places them with the underwear. I wait for her to pick them up and go to the bathroom, but instead, she drops her towel. My jaw drops along with it.
She doesn’t look at me, but I know she knows I’m watching. I take in her naked form. I thought I was hard before, but this is. . .too fucking much. I want to free my cock and jerk off to this visual. I will, later, but the urge to do it now is strong. It’s either that or go over there and bite her ass, her thighs, her tits, and her mouth, which will inevitably lead to her pussy, which will lead to sex, and that’s not going to happen yet. She finishes getting dressed, puts her feet into a pair of slides, grabs socks and cleats, and walks out of the closet and the room.
She doesn’t look at me or acknowledge me once. It pisses me off, but I give her this. I invaded her life and am about to uproot it. I’m taking her back to a place I know she’d rather burn down than step foot in. I know she’s mad at me over the vibrator incident, but I don’t give a shit. The confirmation that she’s been getting herself off to the memory of me was worth asking, even if I did want to break the vibrator for taking pleasure from me. I’m even angrier after hearing that shit-head say that they’d fucked.
Where did they fuck? Was it on this bed? I’ll burn the fucking mattress. I know I shouldn’t be upset. Three years is a long time, but when it comes to Lyla, I shouldn’t be a lot of things that I can’t help. I take a breath. He’s obviously a lousy lay, which, no shit. I could see that from a mile away. I take a breath and stop thinking about it. It happened. I can’t change it. I need to move on. When I hear her grab her keys, I look at the time on my phone and get up quickly.
“Where are you going?” I stand by the bedroom door. “You still have thirty minutes before your breakfast thing.”
“Right.” She glares at me. “And in the meantime, I’m going to get coffee from a stranger who won’t emotionally attack me, just because they think they can.”
“I thought you invited me to go with you.”
“Fuck you.” She turns swiftly, opens the door, and slams it shut behind her.
I laugh. Yeah, she’s angry all right. Well, welcome to the fucking club of the angry and broken-hearted, Lyla James. We don’t share cookies, only grievances.
Luckily I got ready two hours before her and I’m able to follow her to breakfast. She probably knows I followed her, but I try to stay out of sight. I’m relieved to see Marissa. Her presence should make it clear to Shit-head that this isn’t a pansy-ass breakfast date. Marissa looks worried. Shit-head looks confused. Lyla looks. . .expressionless. This is making her go back into her shell, which bothers me, but not enough to put an end to all of it. She will marry me, and I will get revenge on the person who did this to me — to her.