Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Willy turns to me when I reach her side. Her hair is damp at the temples, her eyes are glassy, and her drink is mostly empty. She wraps my tie around her fist, her expression pensive. “Why do you have to be so pretty?”
“Why do you?”
She throws her head back and laughs. But there’s no humor. It’s bitter and angry and so many other things. She surprises me by clasping her hands behind my neck. The entire front of her body is pressed against the entire front of mine.
Everything goes haywire as I register her soft curves against me.
“Bet you never thought we’d be doing this, eh?” There’s a bite in her tone, but there’s sadness, too.
I wish I could erase it. Tell her the truth. I wish she’d believe me, but I know she won’t.
She’s right, though. I never thought I would be here, with her hands on me, looking so beautiful it hurts. I set one hand on her waist and give in to the urge to touch her face. I shouldn’t. It’s unfair. I’ve boxed her into a corner and allowed my truth to be turned into a lie. She believes it’s revenge, when really I’d do anything to guard her heart.
I give her a slice of honesty, though I know she won’t believe it. “You’re the only place I ever want to be, Wilhelmina.”
“I’m so mad at you.” I can’t hear the words, but I watch her perfect lips form each one.
I nod, my own smile wry. “I keep making messes for you, don’t I?”
Her eyes slide closed, and she drops her forehead to my chest. I bend to kiss the top of her head. To everyone else this looks like a moment. And it is. But not the one I wanted it to be.
Willy’s vulnerability is real in the way she’s letting me hold her. Too bad it’s because I’ve made her life a nightmare.
“I’m going to do right by you.” I know the music covers my oath.
We close down the bar. By the time I get Wills into a taxi and off to the hotel, she’s an absolute mess. I tuck her into my side as I guide her to the elevators, shielding her from prying eyes.
The last thing I want are pictures of a drunk Wills floating around on the internet for assholes to speculate over.
She stumbles through the door and melts into a heap on the floor. Her hazy gaze moves around the room, and her lips push out in a pout. She flails a hand toward the bed. “Look how nice this room is. This is supposed to be for two people who are really in love and want to spend the night boning each other’s brains out.”
“It is a nice room,” I agree. If she wasn’t totally wasted and she didn’t hate me, I’d love to be boning her brains out. I crouch in front of her and hold out a bottle of water.
She knocks it away and takes my face in her hands. Her gaze drops to my mouth and then lifts to my eyes. Her expression is sad and angry and heated. “I fucking hate you,” she whispers.
“I know. I’m sorry.” After everything I’ve done, after what I’ve put her through, I deserve to feel like my heart has been punted into a swamp full of ravenous alligators. “I’ll fix it.”
“I really want to believe you this time,” her voice cracks with emotion. “None of this is real.”
“Some of it is real, honey,” I counter.
“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, how pretty you are. And it makes me sick,” she declares.
And then she throws up.
CHAPTER 14
HEMI
It feels like there’s a full twelve-piece band, complete with cymbals, playing out of tune in my head. My mouth tastes like ass. My head is throbbing.
I reluctantly crack an eyelid, only half committed to dealing with today. I’m momentarily perplexed by my unfamiliar surroundings. I sift through my brain, which feels like a bowl of congealed oatmeal, and try to figure out what happened last night to make me feel so horrendous.
I roll onto my back, taking stock of my surroundings. I’m in a hotel room. The honeymoon suite Dallas’s mom so sweetly booked for us. I’d planned to stage some photos and a video walk-through so we’d have evidence of our romantic celebration. But I was not supposed to wake up here.
I glance to my right, and the horrible churning in my gut becomes overwhelming nausea. Lying on his back, head turned toward me, one hand lying palm up between us—almost as if he’s looking for a hand to hold—is a very attractive, very passed-out Dallas. The sheet is pushed down to his waist, revealing his muscular, bare chest.
Oh fuck. Did we sleep together?
We better not have had sex. Especially not sex I can’t remember. My stomach lurches. I throw off the sheets and roll out of bed, which is a terrible idea. The room spins, and my legs give out. I land on the floor in a heap. My anxiety reaches full-blown panic as I take in my attire. I’m wearing Dallas’s T-shirt. And my bra and underpants. But that’s all.