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No, no, no,” he barks, quickly turning the car around like he’s about to flip a bitch on this narrow drive.
This was so funny to me
They want to call me irrational, then I’ll show them irrational.
Me fr
A wicked grin tilts the corner of his mouth. “I’m just starting to wonder…” he says with a note of sarcasm in his voice, “if you’re here for the same reason she was. Perhaps you can pick up where she left off.”
I like this guy
you stupid ogre.”
I might have let that six-foot-five rich Scottish jerk throw me around a little bit.
😏
Before letting the door close behind me, I grab it and quietly ease myself out. My cheeks heat with embarrassment from hearing my best friend getting it on. Stifling a giggle, I tiptoe out the door, thinking about how I’m going to give her shit about this later. Then, my eyes catch on a pair of familiar shoes on the floor. They look exactly like Aaron’s—the ones I got him for his birthday last year. This guy she’s seeing has good taste. But then my gaze lingers on the shoes, and I realize they are a little too familiar. Like they have the same wear marks as Aaron’s. Still tied the same way he
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This killed me…
Aaron moved out ten days ago. When he tried to come home that night with second-degree burns on his back and tears in his eyes, I threatened him with a kitchen knife. He called me a bitch, grabbed his phone charger, and left.
Okay I love her
I’m about to become this man’s worst nightmare.
Actually me
I don’t know why my heart suddenly starts hammering in my chest. Maybe because I’m about to introduce my wife to all of my oldest friends. I’ve never done this before.
“Mo ghràidh,” I add so softly no one can hear it but her. I throw in a smirk and a wink.
Sobbing
The door opens, and she comes out in a pair of dark-blue satin pajamas. Her wild strawberry-blond curls are piled on top of her head and wrapped in a satin ribbon. She’s wiped every ounce of makeup from her skin, leaving her cheeks spotted with freckles and her lips bare of color. I’d like to kiss them again to feel what they’d be like without the makeup covering them. Her eyes are so much rounder and brighter without the black lines and shading.
The desire to punch him and the desire to kiss him feel the same.
I really get her
I think about Killian’s hands. I remember the weight of them as they rested in mine on our wedding day. And then again that night, bandaging the open gash across his palm. Then I feel them around my arm—and around my waist. It’s a memory, but it’s burnt into my mind like an iron brand. I can still remember how they felt as they pinned my hands to the bed. So much larger than mine. Capable of so much, but never used harshly against me. Even when he held me back, there was care in his strength. “Would
Angel.
“You know, Claire…” I say, trying to keep my cool. “You may not be able to trust rumors, but you can trust your gut. And my gut is telling me that you tried to fuck my husband that weekend at my house.”
GET HER ASS
I spin around, knowing full well what he’ll do next. That familiar large hand wraps around my arm, hauling me back toward him. My hands go to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, I tighten my fists in his shirt. We are chest to chest. I’m staring into his eyes blazing with fury as one of his hands grabs the back of my neck and brings my face close enough to brush our lips together. “You make me so angry,” he mutters. I manage one desperate gasp before his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss isn’t anything like our last two kisses. Those were performances. This is real.
WOOOOOOOO
“You’re all bark and no bite, my wee wife.”
“Thank you,” I whisper to him. His lip curls in a subtle smirk. “I got you something.” Jumping up from the couch, I rush over to the entryway where my winter coat is hanging. Digging into the pockets, I find the leather gloves I picked up last night. Staring at the gloves, I instantly remember how things felt so different between him and me just twenty-four hours ago. I carry them into the living room and set them on his lap. “It’s not much, but I saw them yesterday and…” My voice trails as his eyes lift to my face. I don’t even recognize us anymore. He reaches into the plastic bag and pulls
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the GLOVES
My obsession with his hands only grows stronger seeing them covered in that soft leather.
Yeah gurl
“I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re out of your mind if you think all of this has been pretending. Even when we’re alone. You are my wife, Sylvie. At the end of this year, you can try to leave, and if you piss me off enough, I might let you go. But I have a feeling you won’t. Because I don’t mean nothing to you, and you know it.”
Crying
“You sound a little protective of me, mo ghràidh.” I give him a twisted expression. “No. I just think she’s a bitch, and clearly, being a bitch to you is my job.” He saunters up behind me, grabbing me by the hips and grinding himself against my backside. The intimacy still takes me by surprise, but it doesn’t stop the blossoming heat building in my belly.
“You are nothing but an old hag, and you don’t care about Killian at all. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him alone. Don’t look at him. Don’t talk to him. And if you even think about coming to Barclay Manor, just know you’ll leave worse than when you came.” “Sylvie.” Killian’s voice is a harsh bark. Then I feel his warm hand around my arm, and I stand upright to find that my hands are shaking. I gaze up into Killian’s eyes, and instead of a scowl of anger, he gives me a hint of a smile. He runs his thumb along my jaw. “Come on, darling. Let’s go home.”
GET HERRRR ASSSSS!
“You are mine.”
:)
Now, I find myself gravitating toward her.
“Go on, then, Killian,” Greg says. “Show her what we get up to at our parties.”
omg
“Here! Take the fucking rug.”
“Don’t you say that to me again, Sylvie Barclay. I don’t care about some stupid fucking contract. I love you. With my whole fucking chest, I love you. So don’t give me any of that shite about not being your real husband, because I’m right here. And I’ll never fucking leave you, not like they did.”
“So, no one else loves you. Big deal. But I’m here, mo ghràidh. And I am telling you that I will love you enough to make up for all of them. I will keep you, and you can trust me that no matter what you do, I won’t let you go. Because you’re mine, understand me?”
“We’re all a mess, but the trick is to find someone who thinks your mess is a masterpiece.
This.
The hate I once felt never went away—it just changed. The passion is a different color now.
Again, my heart.
“Do you promise to keep me?” With a smile on my face and his hands held in mine, I gaze into his eyes as I graciously reply. “I do.”
KEEP ME
