Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
“Abortion?” I scream it, shaking with a fury that sends me storming and spitting after him. “It’s such an ugly word you can’t even say it.”
“Abortion.” He tosses the syllables over his shoulder with a flippant flick of his hand. “Call it what you want. We’re getting rid of it.”
I flinch at his callousness.
“You can’t mean that.” My heart is broken bones and howling wind. “I know you didn’t want this but—”
“Don’t. I don’t want it. This is my number one rule—”
“Oh, fuck you and your precious rules. I dare you to try to take this child from me.”
“We had an agreement!” he roars.
“You think I wanted this? That I deliberately got myself knocked up? Your vasectomy failed. Accept it. Or don’t. Whatever has you running scared like a fucking coward, it doesn’t change my decision. Come hell or high water, I’m keeping this baby, Monty. Do you hear me? If you’re with me, I swear to you, we’ll be fine. God knows we’re not the first couple to face an unplanned pregnancy. Priorities shift. Relationships adapt—”
“And women cheat.”
The accusation hitches my breath.
I won’t deny it. I shouldn’t have to. He’s never met a more loyal, more devoted woman than the one standing before him. If he’s questioning my fidelity now, we’re already doomed.
The longer I glare at him, the harder his features appear, and harder still, until his jaw turns to stone and his blue eyes ice over.
I stand my ground, my mind spiraling toward a harrowing possibility.
If he doesn’t make this right, I’ll have to leave him. No matter how desperately I love him or how irrevocably it would destroy me, I will not stay with a man who rejects his own child.
Slowly, the vitriol fades from his expression. His jaw loosens, and he turns toward the dresser with a sigh.
“You’re not a cheater.” He rakes a hand through his thick black hair, his voice softening as his eyes find mine in the mirror. “I was wrong to imply it.”
One argument averted.
I incline my head, reminding myself he’s not reacting this way to be mean. It’s self-preservation.
He’s been in this position before. More times than I care to think about.
It comes with the territory—being filthy rich and disarmingly good-looking. He’s the most coveted man in Alaska, even after I took him off the market.
Women want him. Men want to be him. And no one—I mean no one—indulges himself as excessively as Monty.
In other words, my husband loves to fuck.
When I caught his eye three years ago, he was the epitome of a billionaire playboy cliché with his chiseled physique and panty-melting smile, man-whoring his way through every bed in the 49th state.
Gross.
That was the exact response I gave him when he asked me out the first time. And again and again the next ten times.
My repulsion only made him pursue me harder.
Evidently, I’m the only woman in Sitka who hasn’t chased him, fucked him on a first date, and tried to entrap him with pregnancy or some other deception.
He pursued me, not the other way around. And holy fuck, did he pursue me. He waged a year-long war against my willpower until he owned every last piece of my body and soul. But he’s so damn jaded about everyone’s intentions he forgets that sometimes.
He forgets that the only thing I want from him is love.
Honest, faithful love.
“I’m not other women.” I rest my hands on my hips. “I don’t give a fuck about the size of your cock or your bank account or your goddamn private island.”
I fling my arms out, indicating the stunning views of neighboring Alaskan islands beyond the windows.
Of course, we live on the most expensive island, and sure, it’s undeniably majestic and peaceful. A luxurious seascape paradise surrounded by mountains and money. But I would happily live in squalor to be with him. Hell, I voluntarily signed a prenup when we married. What more can I do to earn his trust?
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He shifts to face me, his gaze challenging. “I don’t understand it. I don’t always trust it. But I’m addicted to it. That’s why I married you.”
“You married me because I’m the only fucking person who stands up to you.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Apologize.”
“That sassy goddamn mouth…” He grabs my wrists and tugs me close, his gaze dropping to my lips, burning. “You think you’re so tough. Like you can control me.”
“I am. I do.”
“Makes your submission that much sweeter.” He spins me toward the bed.
My chest hits the mattress, and he follows me down, pinning me with his weight.
“I’m sorry.” His breath caresses my ear.
“For?”
“Being a dick.”
“Thank you. Now get off me so we can finish—”
He tightens his hold, his muscles contracting as he grinds his arousal against my ass.
“No.” My temper heats, and I stab an elbow at his ribs. “We’re not doing this.”