Fornever Yours Read Online Natasha Anders

Categories Genre: Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
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“That was perhaps the biggest mistake of all,” she admitted. Her words were so quiet—almost aimed only at herself—she wondered if he’d heard her.

The impressive string of ripe curses that followed her softly-spoken words confirmed that he had—in fact—heard her.

“It would probably be best if you did go now home, Lizzy.” His voice was a menacing growl. “Run back to safety with your tail tucked between your legs. Away from the big, bad bastard who seduces you into making reckless mistakes.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she admitted, her plaintive voice raised to just below a shout, her hands going up in exasperation. “What do you think is going on here, Gideon? Because it’s clearly at odds with what I believe.”

He chuckled, another deeply bitter sound. “Pretty much par for the course for us, isn’t it? We’re never on the same page.”

Beth watched him closely. Whatever emotion she’d seen on his face just moments before had been ruthlessly erased from his beautiful features, leaving nothing but a harsh, blank canvas in its stead.

“What page are you on, Gideon?” she asked, her words tinged with wariness. “Because, let me tell you, I don’t see us continuing with this unsustainable sex thing. It’s going exactly nowhere.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I thought we’d fuck a few more times, fall madly in love, get married, have kids.” The edge of sarcasm in those words was so razor sharp, Beth was tempted to check herself for cuts.

She forced a chuckle, which came out resembling a flat, asthmatic wheeze instead.

“That’s not even in the same book,” she told him, and he sent her a scathing ya think? glare.

She hesitated, before grabbing a samoosa from the plate on the counter and hoisting herself up onto one of his unreasonably high bar stools. The thing wobbled precariously, and he grabbed hold of the round seat on either side of her thighs to steady it. He snatched his hands away with indecent haste once he was assured of her safety, but it wasn’t fast enough. Beth could still feel the imprints of his fingers burning through the flimsy fabric of her skirt.

“You want to talk?” she asked, waving her free hand at him in a go-ahead gesture while nibbling one of the crispy corners of the pastry. “Talk.”

He sighed, the sound was insultingly long-suffering and Beth bristled. There was just no winning with the man. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Her undivided attention?

“You’re such a—” He stopped, gritting his teeth together as he fought back the words he was about to say next. But perversely, Beth now wished he would say them.

Such a what?

He shook his head, glowering at her, his eyes sparking with temper.

“Such a what?” she asked, when it became apparent that he was not going to complete the sentence.

“It’s nothing.” He inhaled deeply, looking very much like a man searching for inner peace and fortitude. Beth didn’t like that. If anybody’s patience was being tested here it was hers. And she was being the bigger person, wasn’t she? She was hearing him out. Wasn’t that what he wanted?

“It’s not nothing. It’s—”

“Child,” he snapped. “You’re such a child.”

Well, that was a let-down.

“You’re calling me a child?” she asked, forcing a calmness she did not feel into her voice. “Me? A child?”

“Yes. You. You come over here with your fucking cake and treats, the promise of an apology, and you stare at me with those big, vulnerable eyes. You make me feel—” He shook his head impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right. It’s unsustainable. We’re too different. Being around you, trying to figure you out, is exhausting. I don’t want to have to deal with you. No matter how great the sex is. It’s not fucking worth the bother of dealing with this shit afterward. My life is better without you in it. I don’t need your smiles and your soft, sweet lying kisses and your eyes. I don’t need your cakes and your fucking nonexistent apologies. I don’t need them. And I don’t want them.

“You can’t sit down and have a decent adult conversation. I tried to be real with you last night. Yet even then, you couldn’t reveal anything truly meaningful about yourself. Instead, you tried to use the truth I’d confessed about myself against me. You hide behind this fucking insufferable façade of prim perfection. And anytime it’s even a little bit threatened and I catch the smallest glimpse of the real Elizabeth cowering behind that façade, you pick a fight. Or you change the subject. Or you try to wiseass your way out of it by riling me up until all I want to do is get the hell out of your intolerable company. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to tell you this, since I have serious doubts that there even is anything else under all that obnoxiousness. You’re definitely not worth the time, the effort, or the fucking energy.”



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