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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“Both of us?” she asked warily, and his eyebrows quirked.

“I did say we.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea. I think I’ll just shower. Or maybe take a bath.”

“You’re clearly dying to get into the hot tub, Lilah,” he said. “Don’t be silly. It’s massive. We would fit in it with room to spare.”

“I don’t want to share the tub with you, Ben. End of discussion. You knock yourself out. Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow or the day after.”

He made a rude sound in the back of her throat, but she ignored him, and in a fit of pique and an overwhelming desire to punish him, she unbuttoned her shorts and peeled them down over her hips before shimmying out of them. Revealing to his interested gaze, the length of her perfectly smooth legs and the minuscule bikini bottom that rode up between her butt cheeks.

She turned away from him, hyper-aware of his piercing gaze on her bum, and leisurely ambled to the patio, putting extra sway into her walk. She couldn’t be certain, but she was almost sure she heard him groan, which brought a petty little grin of satisfaction to her lips.

Take that, asshole!

She submerged her overheated body into the cool waters of the pool and dunked her head under the water for a brief moment as well. When she resurfaced it was to find him standing at the edge of the pool and staring down at her. Hands in pockets, head bent, tension in every line of his body.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment before he sighed impatiently and sank down onto one of the loungers.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my day was?” he asked.

“Why should I?”

“It’s what a good wife would do.”

“I think it’s more than apparent that I will not be a good wife to you, Ben.”

“Give it time, you may surprise both of us yet.”

She laughed, the sound far from amused, and tread water, skimming her arms back and forth across the surface of the water as she contemplated his words.

“And do you think you’ll be a good husband to me?”

“I think I already am.”

She laughed again, and this time there was humor in the sound. “How do you figure that?”

“I want what’s best for you. I care about what happens to you. I know I could make you very happy in bed.”

She shook her head, a brief side-to-side motion, her lips still tilted upward.

“You’re completely deluded, Ben. I’m so sick of having this same conversation. Why don’t we both just agree that this is a subject we will never see eye-to-eye on and let it go for now? After this ridiculous excuse of a honeymoon is over, we can discuss next steps and living arrangements. But for now, why don’t we just stay out of each other’s way? Okay?”

This time he was the one who laughed, a harsh, acerbic sound that made her wince.

“And you call me deluded? Lilah, it’s time you face up to the reality of your situation… we’re married.”

“Ugh. Stop. Please. I’ve had enough.” She made her way to the steps and climbed out of the pool, picking up a clean towel from the other lounger, which she wrapped around her body. She wrung out her hair with her hands and tracked puddles of water into the villa. She went straight to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her.

FIFTEEN

Purgatory in paradise

The next four days followed a similar pattern. They went to sleep on separate sides of the bed, and always woke up entwined in each other’s arms. Lilah never lingered though, always pushing him away and escaping to the bathroom and then leaving the villa without exchanging any meaningful conversation with him.

She spent her days exploring, lounging on the beach, texting friends, taking pictures of the scenery, the wildlife, the resort, all the happy couples. She’d been massaged, waxed, primped, and preened. She’d gone snorkeling, kayaking, parasailing, dolphin spotting, turtle watching, everything she’d expected to do while on honeymoon, only—contrary to her expectations—she’d done it alone. She knew the staff, with whom she was becoming quite familiar, wondered why this honeymooning couple were never seen together, but they were discreet and never asked questions.

Lilah hated every moment of this purgatory in paradise. She longed to go home and wished Gramps—whom she missed and worried about—would respond to her texts with more frequency. When he did message her, he always seemed distant and not like himself at all. She would have expected him to have bugged her incessantly for pictures of herself and Ben by now. But nothing. If she hadn’t been the one messaging him, she wouldn’t have heard from him, since he hadn’t instigated communications at all.

And trying to get him on Facetime? Or even for just a good old fashioned phone call? Forget about it. She’d even been desperate enough to ask Ben if he’d spoken to the old man. He’d been frustratingly vague in his response to her question, which made her feel completely out of the loop.


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