An Improper Ever After(3)

She hugs herself. The gesture makes her look oddly alone, and I instinctively want to reach out and comfort her. "Don't use that to shut me out," she says.

Damn her. Damn me! I curl my hands into fists instead and keep them hanging by my sides. "Like you didn't shut me out when you kept your secret?"

"You're being unfair."

I bark out a laugh. "There it is again. Unfair. That's rich, coming from you."

"When was I supposed to tell you? When you were shoving money into my G-string? When you were telling me to get down on my knees in exchange for three thousand dollars? When you were manhandling me at OWM?" She flings an arm out. "Or how about when you told me you wanted to marry me for a year so you could 'fuck me' and put your hand between my legs?"

That's it. I'm not going to stay in the stall and listen to her try to justify what she's done. I cut the water and come out, grabbing a towel. "How about the time I asked you to tell me your secrets? How about the time I told you my ugly past with Annabelle Underhill? I've been many things with you, but never a hypocrite."

"As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Grayson is my problem. I owe him money, and I figured once I pay him off he won't have any leverage over me. Why do you think I wanted to get a job?"

"And you could've told me then, too. When I told you it was pointless to get a job since I would be providing for you. You also could've told me what was going on, and I would've paid Grayson off on your behalf." And seen if I could squeeze any information out of the man, given his connection to Keith Shellington, the Embezzling Asshole.

"I was embarrassed, okay? It was stupid to take his money. But … I was desperate." She bites her lower lip. "You know how things were when we first met. We just started to have a decent relationship, and I didn't want to ruin it by asking you to pay off my debt or talking about all the ways I screwed things up after I left Lincoln City."

I toss the damp towel on the floor and glare at her. "So it's my fault that you couldn't come clean."

"You're twisting what I'm telling you." Unshed tears spike her eyelashes, and she looks at me as though I'm the monster.

The same way Annabelle Underhill did when I called her out on her fucking scheme to marry my father. We were in a small closet where various dresses and outfits were stashed for their ceremony and reception. It was one of the few places we could have some privacy.

You're twisting what I'm telling you, she said. If you hadn't kept your plans secret …

"If we hadn't such a rocky beginning … " my wife is saying.

I close the distance between us in three big steps and grip her wrist. I can feel her pulse spike against my thumb. "Then what, wife? You would've told me everything?"




 

 

She tilts her head to look up at me. The motion pushes her tits forward, and I wonder-quite cynically-if it's a calculated move. Annabelle did the same then … and then let her mouth quiver … just like my wife is doing right now. The two women start to blur. And I finally realize why I'm more furious now than before. I assumed Belle would be on my side, that she would never betray my trust because she'd thrown some crumbs about her past my way. But of course that was an error. A very stupid one.

Belle's breathing shallows. With fear or something else … I don't know and I don't give a damn. The edges of my vision dim and redden.

"Elliot … "

"I should've stuck to our agreement," I spit out between clenched teeth. "Trying to change that, as though we could ever have anything meaningful for a year, was my mistake."

Infuriatingly enough, my mind tells me I should stop now, before I hurt her too much, but I can't. I want to devastate her the way she's devastated me. I want to be contemptuous, make her feel as much self-disgust as I do.

And I can't stand myself for wanting her. My cock's so hard I could use it to split timber. I twist my hand into her hair and pull until she's arching into my body. Her pointed nipples stab into my bare chest, and I growl deep in my throat. My dick presses against her belly, and she gasps.

Before she can regain her equilibrium, I crush my lips against hers in a punishing kiss. There's no gentleness or finesse as I plunder her mouth with every violent emotion that whips through me. She needs to know what she's done, and I don't even know why that matters so much. The likeliest scenario is that she doesn't care, because all this had been coldly calculated, and everything between us is just one huge farce. I exert more pressure, my teeth almost cutting the tender flesh of her lips. I brace myself for her reaction-a recoil of shock and distaste, an attempt to slap me away, a struggle …