Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I push the button again and I hear her pick up, but she doesn’t answer me.
“Tully, it’s me. Let me up.” I sigh.
“No. I’m good.” She snaps angrily.
“Can we at least talk about it?” I ask.
“I have nothing to say.”
“I do, so fucking let me up.”
The buzzer eventually grants me entry, and I push the door open angrily to make my way to the elevator. I inhale deeply as I try to calm myself down. Don’t lose your shit again, that’s what got you in this fucking position in the first place, I remind myself. I run my hands through my hair as I try my hardest to cool down. This is all new to me. I’ve never been in the dog house with a woman before. I don’t fucking like it.
Tully opens her door, fury written all over her face. I try to kiss her hello but she turns head away from me coolly.
I put my arm around her, but she pushes me off her aggressively. “Don’t touch me.”
“Come on, Pock.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t Pock me!”
Silence is all I can come up with in response.
“What the fuck was last night about, Brock?” she snaps.
“Pock,” I whisper as is try to wrap my arms around her again.
“Don’t Pock me!” she yells. “I’m so fucking angry at you, it’s not even funny.”
“Why?”
She puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “You can’t be that stupid.” Her hair is wild and her big lips are full. I can see her silhouette through her nightdress and I feel my cock harden. This woman could seriously turn me on at any given time, even when she’s raging mad. The thought makes me smirk.
“You think this is funny?”
“No,” I reply, but I kind of do for some reason. A stupid smile crosses my face again.
She picks up the cushion from the sofa and hurls it at my head. “You big fucking twat waffle.” She yells in an outrage.
The cushion connects with my head, and I burst out laughing at the name twat waffle. That’s a new one. Tully storms into the kitchen, furious.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Any minute now, she’s going to come back and lose her shit again. I already know it’s coming.
Right on cue, she starts storming over to where I am again. “And another thing...”
“You didn’t tell me the first thing yet,” I tell her dryly.
She points her finger in my face. “Don’t bait me, Brock. I hardly slept a wink and I am raging like a bull.”
I exhale and look to the ceiling. “Obviously.”
“That’s it. She screams. “Get out!”
“What?”
“You think this is funny?” She yells.
“What’s funny? Spit it out, woman.”
“You!” she screams, and her eyes fill with tears.
My heart drops. Oh God, she’s really upset.
“You didn’t stop hitting him.”
My face falls.
“I’m so traumatised from seeing you like that.”
“Pock,” I whisper softly. I hate that she witnessed me at my worst.
Why the fuck did I do that?
“Don’t Pock me,” she says through gritted teeth. “You have no idea how it feels.”
I take her in my arms. “I’m sorry, okay?” I try to comfort her. “What are you talking about? How don’t I know what what feels like?” I hold her close.
“I can’t be with someone who thinks that behaviour is okay, Brock. I-I won’t do it.”
“Tully, I have to do what’s right sometimes. I can’t just let things go. I won’t have you disrespected, and that guy was asking for it.”
“So, you beat him to a pulp?” she cries. “He could have died. What if he hit his head on the floor and died?”
I puff air into my cheeks as I try to calm her down. I pull her close to me and kiss her temple.
“H-here I am over here falling in love with you, and… and all you care about is being in control and winning,” she stammers.
I still instantly. What the fuck did she just say?
My eyes find hers, and she screws her face up, making more tears fall, her disappointed and embarrassment clear from having just let that slip.
“You’re falling in love with me?” I ask in a whisper with raised brows.
She stares at me but doesn’t answer.
I begin to hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears as the panic sets in. I have this overwhelming urge to run.
“I can’t be in love with someone who has that temper, Brock,” she whispers.
My eyes search hers.
“You need to man up and be the man I need, or you need to step away.”
“Step away? What does that mean?”
“I want a man to love, not a little boy who tantrums, lashes out, and hits people when he doesn’t get his own way.”
My heart sinks.
“You said you wanted to do this relationship thing, Brock.”
I step back from her, a sense of fear sweeping over me like never before.