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“I’m sorry. We should not have come back here last night.” He should have sent her home and climbed the stairs to the apartment above his bar and slept in his own bed—alone.
She shook her head and reached into the refrigerator for a jug of creamer, added a dollop to the mug sitting on the counter. “A small part of me wishes he’d come home while we were in the middle of…”
Mikail sucked in a harsh breath. “You took me home because you wanted your cheating husband to catch us in the act?”
He’d thought she was attracted to him because of who he was, not because she wanted revenge.
He’d been used. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. And while it certainly hadn’t been the first time in his long life, it was the first time he felt…dirty about it.
She shook her head so forcefully that red tendrils sprang free of her loose braid and whipped her in the face. “No, not at all. I didn’t think about him at all until this morning. I was lying there on my back, my arm resting on your chest, my leg draped over your thighs, not really ready to wake up, and I thought, I’ve never experienced this before. I can’t believe I had no idea what I was missing. But he never missed it. I’m pretty sure he’s been getting it on the side for almost our entire marriage, and I had no idea. And I wanted him to see that I was happy and satisfied—with someone else.”
Mikail gritted his teeth and was barely able to suppress the growl. Yes, he’d made the poor choice to take her to bed, but he’d not thought it would be a revenge fuck for her. He’d wanted her to enjoy pleasures he knew she’d never experienced before—just as she’d said—but he’d also not wanted her stupid husband to have anything at all to do with it, even if it was anger or frustration she was feeling.
This was why he taught the Watchers to keep emotions out of the mix. Because emotions made people dumb.
“But then I got out of bed and went to the bathroom and took a shower,” Faith said, “and I wasn’t thinking about him at all. I didn’t feel sad or vengeful or anything tied to him.”
She canted her head and studied Mikail while her cheeks pinked. “It sort of felt like I had a new beginning. My life is starting over, as of last night.”
“You mean since you started the process of divorcing the man?” Mikail suggested. He did not like where he suspected this conversation was heading.
“I don’t want to start over alone.”
Uh-oh.
“I don’t want to go back to giving myself orgasms.”
“Is that all it was to you?” Why did he even ask? The entire experience had been all about showing her what she’d been missing by staying with Luke. He had meant to give her a night to remember, but he hadn’t meant…
“Oh no. I want so much more than that.” She took a sip of coffee, her brow crinkling when her gaze landed on the sugar container. Rather, what was shoved between it and the wall. “What’s this?” she asked, moving a handful of steps.
She pulled out the wadded ball of clothing, untangled the different pieces, and held up her panties. “Why is this stuffed back here?”
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want, uh, the reminder of what happened to be in your face when you woke up this morning.”
“Why not?”
“Because…”
“Because why, Mikail?” Her tone had taken on a hard edge. She crumpled the panties in her fist.
“Faith, love, we cannot…”
“Cannot what?”
Christ, she was going to make him spell it out. He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “What happened last night cannot happen again. That is not how it is supposed to work between us. We should not have even done it in the first place. It is against policy. Against the rules.”
The mug slipped from her hand. As he watched its descent toward the floor, he thought, if she were in possession of her magic, she could stop this right now.
The cup hit the unforgiving ceramic tile and shattered, pale brown liquid jumping up and dousing both his and Faith’s legs. Luckily, it had cooled to a lukewarm consistency and did no more damage beyond making a mess.
He glanced up at Faith’s face. She was as pale as a ghost, save two spots of bright color on her cheeks. Her eyes were wide, the blue of her irises shimmering. Oh fates, had he made her cry? He hadn’t meant to do that. He only meant—
“Are you rejecting me too?”
TJ
Bell is the naughtier alter-ego of romance author Tami Lund (although
you should totally read Tami Lund’s book too, because they are
really, really good). She writes paranormal, all the time. Her
heroines are tough, even if they are broken, and her heroes tend to
have a heart of gold under all that alpha. Hell, sometimes they
aren’t even alpha at all; after all, who doesn’t love a solid
beta hero?
When
she isn’t writing snarky, steamy books, TJ Bell likes to take long
walks on the beach with a tall glass of wine… oh wait, wrong bio.
But still true.
TJ
Bell lives in the (sometimes) beautiful state of Michigan, USA, where
the weather is glorious approximately 30% of the time, with her
even-more-snarky husband, snarky-in-training (and progressing
impressively) teenage daughter, and her dog, Kaya, who wants to know
if it’s dinnertime yet.
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Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteYou’re so kind that you make everyone around you a better person – thank you for sharing the tour!
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