Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
She holds her hand out a little and, despite being an intelligent man, I have to do a little math in my head to make sure I’m actually looking at her left hand.
“For fuck’s sake,” I say, angling my head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t fuck around with married women.”
As gently as I can manage, I move her off me and sit up on the side of the bed.
“This small-ass town,” I grumble, scraping my hands over my face. “I swear Kincaid will boot my ass out of the club if shit hits the fan.”
I glance back over my shoulder, wondering just what in the hell kind of voodoo curse she managed to cast over me, because checking for a wedding ring is one of the very first steps I always take when approaching a woman. I might have had a few drinks last night before splitting off from the guys, but I wasn’t so wasted that I would’ve missed the fact that she’s married.
“What happened last night?”
She blinks up at me, her face a nearly unreadable mask. If it weren’t for her eyes darting away immediately, betraying her nervousness, I’d think the woman was as tough as nails.
“We had sex,” I say when she remains silent, flashes of our bodies moving together filling my mind.
I grunt in irritation, unwilling to let those thoughts take control.
“We did,” she confirms, and I can’t tell if her voice is all husky and sexy because that’s just how it is in the morning or if it’s some game she’s playing in an attempt to get control of this situation.
“And your husband?” I ask, my eyes darting past her bare tits to the simple gold band on her left ring finger.
She licks her lips before responding, and, honestly, it makes me consider going to the emergency room for a toxicology screen, because the woman distracts me that easily.
“I think he enjoyed it.”
She chuckles when my eyes widen, and the sound of it follows me to the bathroom when I pop up and race across the room to find this man.
I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never been involved in a group-sex situation, but the norm would be me and a couple of women, not sharing a girl with another guy. Certainly, in my right mind, I would absolutely never climb into bed with a married couple. I saw more than one friend end up in some shady-ass situation when I was in the Marine Corps for shit like that to happen.
“This is some fucked-up shit.” I press my palms into my eyes, the room radiating with color when I pull them away and look at her.
It takes several long seconds for her to come back into focus. That grin on her face is back, and I recall a flash of it in the bar last night, but there isn’t a single memory in my head of another man.
I had weird-ass dreams last night when we finally took a break from each other, but I can’t separate all of that from reality.
“Derrick,” she says with a sigh, and I find it weird, my real name on her lips.
It forces me to pause and give her my full attention.
“You’re my husband.”
I tilt my head to the side in confusion before following her line of sight to my left hand.
I blink down at the simple gold band on my hand, confused as to how in the world it got there in the first place.
“That’s impossible,” I argue. “I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Beth,” she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Beth Lee.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s my last name.”
“Exactly,” she says, without even missing a beat.
Chapter 2
Beth
My mask of indifference is something I’ve perfected with years and years of disappointment, but for some reason, I’m struggling to lock it in place this morning.
We had a great time last night, and it was very obvious that he only remembered parts of it when he woke up and pulled me closer.
The way he’s glaring at me right now tells me that he still hasn’t managed to recall all of his memories from last night.
He was an active participant in all of it. The alcohol he drank was his own choice.
“Why are you glaring at me like that?” I ask instead of running from the room like my mind is urging me to.
My first instinct is to hightail it out of here and never look back. I’m sort of known for hasty decisions, for reading too much of the wrong thing into nearly every situation. Last night was no different. Last night, things went further than they ever have before. I knew there was a risk, that I was taking a chance, and that the odds were stacked against me for things to work out the way my head tried to convince me they would.