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I hated that I noticed him. He was tall, lean, fit. His dark floppy hair, his pale skin and flushed cheeks. I fucking hated him for making me want him.
“Who did that to you?” Marshall asked. He shook the water from his hands and met my gaze in the mirror. “Who was it?” That hatred, the barely contained loathing, was in his eyes all right. It just wasn’t aimed at me.
He took my face in his hands and kissed me, slow and sensual, tongues tasting. And Lleyton’s words came back to me. In case you’re as oblivious as he is, he’s got it bad for you. That man is in deep. Oh god. The way he was kissing me, I thought Lleyton might have been right. And it struck me how I wasn’t horrified or even scared. Instead, it made my heart race and my belly warm. It made my skin prickle all over, in a good way. In a way that felt alive. It struck me how happy it made me. But then Marshall shoved me onto the bed, folded me in half and fucked me good and hard. Like he loathed me.
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“You better fucking not. I have great expectations, Marshall.” Then I thought I should clarify. “And I’m not talking about the book.”
Husbands With Benefits