Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I can’t,” the waitress says, holding the tray.
I pull out a few hundred-dollar bills and hand them to the waitress, not to Maven. She takes them, places the tray down on the seat, and climbs up onto the table with my wife. Maven grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, moving her hips against the other woman’s. Fascinating. That’s the word I would choose to describe her right now. She drops low, down the waitress’s body, looking at me as she does, then slides her body back up.
“Do you think he’s hot?” she asks the waitress, loud enough for me to hear. The waitress looks over her shoulder at me and nods. “What if I said that you could come back to our room with us tonight?” The waitress turns back to Maven, and I grind my teeth at her suggestion.
“You just got married, didn’t you?” I hear the waitress say.
“Yes, and I want you to fuck my husband,” Maven says sweetly. “I can even pay you.”
Standing, I wipe my hands down my trousers before I pull out more cash and hand it to the waitress. She takes it with a confused look.
“If you will excuse me,” I say, and walk away before I do something I’ll regret.
I go to the men’s room and splash some water on my face before heading back out. When I get to our table, I don’t find my wife there. Instead, I find her on the dance floor with another man. Growling, I stalk in her direction, pushing through the throng of people until I reach her.
“Touch my fucking wife again, and I will end your fucking life,” I say in a tone that tells the guy I’m not joking. He immediately puts his hands up and backs away. Truth be told, I don’t think she even realized she was dancing with a guy, as he was behind her while she swung her arms in the air.
Grabbing Maven, I drape her body over my shoulder and then make my way to the exit as a few people yell congratulations at the sight of us leaving. Luckily, the nightclub is in the hotel where we’re staying, and I don’t stop even when we get to the hotel elevators. She doesn’t say a word during the entire trip from the club to the room. And when I shut the door behind me, she feels like deadweight over my shoulder.
I expect her to speak when I place her on the bed, but she’s passed out. I pull each heel off because I know that’s the last thing she would want to ruin, then reach for her again. Her body lies limply in my arms as I carry her to the bathroom. I turn the shower on cold, then step in, the water hitting her first, and she immediately screeches and starts hitting my chest.
“Oh my God, you fucking asshole. Put me down.”
“Do not offer me up for another woman to fuck. I’m your husband now,” I tell her angrily, still holding her under the water.
“Fuck you!” she shouts.
I place her on her feet, then I step out, leaving her in the shower. Taking my clothes off, I leave them in a wet pile on the floor. Turning back around, I find her slumped down, the blue from her hair cascading down her body and to the drain as the shower washes over her. Sighing, I lean in and turn the faucet off.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I grab the first shirt I can find and then return to find her in the same spot. Drying her with the towel, I pick her up and take her to the bed before I slip the shirt over her head and lay her back down. She hardly makes a sound, but her eyes flutter open and lock on me for a moment.
Fuck, what am I doing?
TWENTY-ONE
MAVEN
My neck hurts. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind. Followed by, it’s so warm.
Moving, I realize it’s because I’m in bed. I don’t remember going to bed. Pulling the blanket down, I find I’m also wearing a shirt that’s not mine. My head really hurts, and I need to go back to sleep. It’s dark apart from the small light near the bathroom, but that’s okay, I’m sure my eyes don’t want to see the brightness anyway.
Climbing from the bed, I go to the bathroom to relieve myself, then wash my face before going back to the bed. I can just barely make out Boston lying on his stomach, the blanket covering him. Looking around, I contemplate sleeping on the couch, but the bed looks enticingly comfortable.
How did I not notice him before? Did he dress me? Is that why I’m wearing his shirt?
My gaze wanders back to him. The blanket is only pulled up to his waist, and his back is visible in the dim light. He’s facing me, but his eyes are shut, and his hands are up above his head, which gives me a view of how muscular his arms are. He clearly works out, that much is evident. I take in the expanse of his tanned skin. When I reach his face again, his eyes are open and locked on me.