Page 25 of Two Wrongs
Through the mirror, I glance at the dress I’ve laid out on the bed.
‘Wear something nice,’ he’d demanded. ‘Something that shows a little skin.’I was tempted to do the opposite until I’d decided I was going to play him at his own game.Hence the liquor bottle.
‘Nothing as exciting as that,’ I reply. ‘I’m only here for one thing, I’m afraid.’
And I am afraid. Quite a bit, actually.
Chapter Twelve
Dylan
The clickof high heels heralds her entrance, but I can’t say their echo prepares me for the sight. I said to wear something nice. Something that shows a little skin. I was ready to see both, but I wasn’t prepared for her to still possess the ability to take my breath away.
Her dress looks almost bronze in the ambient light. I know, even from across the room, the tones will bring out the honey in her eyes. Long sleeved and high at the neck, the garment is barely a whisper longer than a belt. She makes her way to the liquor cabinet without realising I’m in the room, and as she turns her back to me, I have to consciously tighten my grip on my glass. The entirety of her spine is exposed, the fabric of her dress—if you can call the scrap that—almost skimming the top of her pert ass, the dimples of her spine visible.
Glass mid-air on the way to my mouth, my movements are frozen, my gaze mesmerised by the dip of her spine and the elegance in her slender neck, exposed as it is by the way she’s styled her hair. Her slim fingers hover over a bottle of Hangar One, moving on to grasp the Belvedere instead. She pours herself a large shot, knocking back half of it immediately.
‘Quit staring,’ she says quietly and without turning.
‘If you didn’t want anyone to look, you shouldn’t have it on show.’
‘I don’t want you looking,’ she says softly. ‘I didn’t say anything about anyone else.’ My stomach turns at the same moment as her body does. ‘Besides, you said to wear something like... sexy. I think that’s what you meant.’ She glances down the length of her creamy, toned legs as I tighten my jaw against an answer that’s likely to be an imprudent one.
‘It’s not like you to pay attention,’ I reply, taking a swallow of Macallan.
‘Why would I not?’ Glass in hand, she rests her forearm against the cabinet, leaning back. ‘You’ve made it quite clear you’re the one calling the shots.’
If she’s itching for a reaction, I’m not giving her one. In fact, right now, I’m reminding myself I’m not here to give her anything. And that includes the satisfaction of my hard dick.I’m thankful I happen to be sitting down to avoid her acknowledging it. She looks so fucking hot. Sultry, raw, and absolutely relaxed. And that’s not how I want her to be. She’s not anxious or hurting. This isn’t fun payback. And my dick fucking aches, which lessens my fun.
‘Are you drunk?’ My gaze falls to the row of bottles at her back. It’s hard to tell, but my guess is this isn’t her first shot tonight.
‘Did you upgrade my flight?’ she asks, suddenly serious; the light in her amber eyes bright.
I force myself not to react—not one muscle. Not in the slightest sense. Did I upgrade her flight? Sure, because who the fuck else would have. My reasons? Well, my reasons make fuck all sense. I wanted her well rested? I wanted her relaxed? I’m soft in the head?
‘Or maybe you’re high, Edera babe?’ I answer instead.
She looks away but not before I see the amber dim.
‘Stop. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
She shrugs, bringing the glass to her mouth and shielding her cupid’s bow lips behind it. ‘Pretty sure you’re used to it.’
Her gaze suddenly widens as I rise from the chair, following each step I take across the room until we’re toe-to-toe and I’m staring down at her.
‘Yes, my wife, I am. No more of this, now.’ She doesn’t resist as I take the glass from her hand. In fact, she doesn’t make a move beyond tilting her head. Her breath hitches as I lean towards her, smiling to myself as I place both our glasses down before pulling back. ‘It won’t be fun to watch if you’re comatose.’
She drops her gaze, as though it’s too telling; as though she can hide. When her head rises again, her expression is one of malice.
‘You know, I hear there are specialised places for people like you—clubs where you can get off watching other people fuck.’
‘Baby, now I know you’re half drunk.’ Half drunk on liquor, mad, or fucking; these are the circumstances Ivy uses those lips for anything other than nice.
‘Or maybe I’m just really angry with you.’
‘Good. A hate fuck.’ It used to be that I was the only one who could make her scream curses at the top of her lungs. Whisper them breathily while I was between her legs. I’ve no intentions of fucking her, but that I can still make her curse other ways gives me pleasure. I turn from her honey eyes, making my way across the room. ‘Car’s waiting,’ I say without turning back.
