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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He was naked.

Of course he was naked, he was in the shower, for God’s sake!

It was dumb to be so diverted by the mere thought of his nudity. He had been unclothed last night in bed with her after all.

This was nothing.

But still he was naked. And wet. Right there, in the bathroom… mere meters away from her.

Oh, God. Lilah shook her head, disgusted with herself for being so silly about this situation. She pushed to her feet and dashed to the en-suite door to quickly drag it shut. It was only after she heard the lock catch that she realized her eyes had been closed. Like a child afraid of the bogeyman.

Lilah knew that she had to be more adult about this unfortunate affair. She was trying to present an unaffected front to this man. She had to make him believe that she truly meant it when she said she wanted a divorce after a year, that she would not be tied down in this loveless marriage. She absolutely refused to spend the rest of her life futilely loving a man who barely tolerated her. Who’d married her only to please his mentor, who felt some kind of misguided obligation toward her. Ben might think that that was the recipe for an ideal marriage, but Lilah would be damned if she remained trapped in such a sterile arrangement for the rest of her life.

That meant she would have to stop being such a ninny about his nudity. She had to be a stronger and better woman. She should shrug off his bewildering advances, excoriate him with her scathing responses, and swat him away like a pesky mosquito.

But, right now, Lilah was the exact opposite of the woman she wanted to be. She was vulnerable, hurt, and frightened. And too affected by his sheer physicality.

With nowhere to hide from herself. Or from him.

She carelessly stuffed her clothing back into the suitcase, closed it, and rolled it into the closet. She hurried to the huge bed and crawled in on the left side. Once there, she curled up and dragged the covers to her ear. She switched off her bedside lamp and lay with her back to the bathroom, stiff as a board, while she waited for his inevitable return.

She listened, growing even more tense when the shower stopped. There was a long silence as he probably toweled himself dry. The same hum of toothbrush or razor that she’d heard on their wedding night.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the door slid open. She sensed him pausing and felt his eyes on her like a spotlight. She’d claimed the side of the bed furthest from the bathroom. And she was facing away from him.

“No wedding night tonight either, I’m guessing,” he murmured. His voice was so quiet, she wondered if the words were meant for her at all.

He sighed and the overhead and pool lights switched off, leaving only his bedside light to illuminate the room. Crisp, freshly laundered fabric rustled as he tugged back the covers and crawled in beside her. The bed was massive, but she still felt the mattress dip as his substantial bulk settled in beside her. More disturbingly, even though he wasn’t touching her, she could feel his heat invading the space between them.

“Sleep tight, cupcake,” he murmured seconds before his lamp clicked off, cloaking the room in darkness.

Silence followed his words. But—in stark contrast to the even rise and fall of his breathing and the gentle susurration of waves lapping against the stilts of their villa—Lilah’s breathing sounded harsh and panicked in that silence.

It spoke louder than any words ever could and she fought to control the pace of her breaths, wanting to rid herself of the desperate edge of anxiety she could hear creeping into every inhalation.

“Relax.” His voice was gentle, no louder than the whispering waves. “C’mon Lilah, breathe with me, okay?”

She tried. She really did, but when the telltale wheeze crept in, she tensed in dread.

“Shh, come on now, sweetheart. You’re okay. Don’t panic, I’m going to touch you. No funny business. I promise…”

Despite the promise, she still flinched when his palm flattened against her back. Warm and reassuring through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. His stroked her back in slow, circular motions. And she found herself relaxing and leaning into his touch.

He’d always been able to talk her down like this.

Always…

Before Ben, any whisper of an asthma attack would be full blown in moments and occasionally resulted in hospitalizations. But whenever he was present, more often than not, he’d ease her out of it.

“Do you need your inhaler?” he asked. He’d moved closer, and she felt his breath stir her hair as he asked the question.

“Yes, please,” she gasped, and he reached across her body to switch on her bedside light. He picked up her inhaler, which was within easy reach on the nightstand and handed it to her.



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