My Cruel Lover (Wicked Poison #3) Read Online T.L. Smith

Categories Genre: Dark, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wicked Poison Series by T.L. Smith
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
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“And I gave it to you.” He looks down at his watch. “Four long hours.”

“You should leave.” I pull away and try to maneuver around him, but he blocks my path.

“Okay, we need to talk,” he says.

I place my hands on my hips. “Talk, then move it. I have things to do.”

His hand reaches up and scratches at his brow as his full attention focuses on me.

I used to feel scrutinized under someone’s gaze but now, not so much.

“I shouldn’t have let my mother speak about you in that way.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Why would you even bring me to that place if all you wanted to do was hear the bad words your mother has to say about me?” I half yell. People walk by and stare, neither of us caring. All that exists is us in our own small bubble right now.

I used to like that bubble when his hands would roam my body, and his dark stare would penetrate me.

“And for the record, Leo sends me checks. Big ones to help support Oliver. Basically, what he would have given his son. But I don’t cash them. Hell, I don’t even open the envelopes. I didn’t ask him to do that. He just does. I don’t want your money, Beckham. As far as I am concerned, you can take your cash and stick it up your mother’s ass.” I push past him, taking my shopping with me. He lets me, and I get to the checker before he’s behind me again.

“I’m not sure what else to say to you. I told you this morning that I have fallen in love with you. Then this afternoon is ending like this.”

“I would defend you, Beckham! If someone loves you, they defend you.”

He scratches his face. “I’m learning, Jacinta. It’s been a long time since I cared for someone other than myself.”

I nod and push forward while the checker who’s scanning my items watches us. I smile, and she looks down, blushing. Clearly, she’s heard everything we just talked about.

I pay and walk out, but he follows.

“It won’t happen again,” he says from behind me.

And I kind of believe him.

When I turn to face him, I have to remember to breathe. “I need to get home,” I say in defeat.

“I want to come,” he states, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I get in my car and drive home. When I get there, Beckham pulls in behind me. He walks over, reaches for my bags of food, and follows me inside, placing them on the counter. “Forgive me,” he pleads.

“They hurt, just so you know. Those words hurt me.”

“I’m sorry.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says again, both hands coming up to my face, cupping me so he can see me. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, this time leaning down and kissing me. Soft, tender, and dare I say it …

… with love.

“I’ve loved someone before,” he says between kisses. “But never this way. Not like this. Not where I can’t function.” When I catch my breath at his words, I simply nod. “You are ingrained in me now. I’m very selective, Jacinta, and I choose you. Do you understand, I choose you?”

“You love me,” I say.

He smirks, those gorgeous lips lifting before he nods. “Fucking truth, I do.”

“And you are sorry?”

“Yes. I will not be speaking to my mother again. We will not see her until she apologizes.”

I grip his hands around my face. “Don’t do that. She’s your mother. You only get one. Trust me, I know this.”

“Tell me about them … your parents,” Beckham says, lifting and placing me on the counter, wedging his body between my legs as he waits for me to answer. “Tell me everything about them. So I can understand you.”

“They were each other’s first loves. Only loves …” I pause. I remember how my father used to make my mother angry, but moments later, he would play music and dance in front of her until she smiled. He was an awful dancer. And she loved to dance. “I look like her,” I tell him.

“Well then, she must have been one fucking looker.” I smile as he pulls me closer and kisses my mouth. It’s not a soft kiss this time. It’s a hard kiss. An, I’m sorry kiss. And I take it because I love him too.

Even if his mother is an ass.

Lips so tender push against mine, hands so rough search my body, for what, I’m not sure. Breaths so rapid have trouble catching mine.

“Ignore it,” Beckham says, his hand sliding up my skirt until he reaches my panties.

I smile as the knock comes again and then huff. He pulls away, putting distance between us, so I can jump off the counter. I wipe my mouth, which is covered in us.


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