Page 27 of Two Wrongs
‘I think you mean hardline.Those are clearly not the same.’
‘Limit-line—lemon-lime!Clearly,youcan’t be trusted, or else you wouldn’t be blackmailing your wife.’Take that, you bast—cad.
‘My lying wife.’
The inflection in his tone almost renders the statement a question. He quirks a brow and shoots me a half smile, and I’d like to say it does nothing for my libido, but I’d be lying. I’m blaming the vodka. And my proximity to him. Plus, isn’t there supposed to be some correlation between love and hate? They’re both extreme emotions—passionate ones.
Blame the vodka and pheromones. His aftershave? And maybe the fact I’ve always had a thing for the alpha dog, especially this one.
What is it about arseholes?
‘The sensation. The limited space. That first ring of tight muscle that grips like a fist.’
As he clenches his fist in front of me, I bring my hand to my face, hiding my mortification. Because as well as making me horny, vodka seems to have made me a gobshite—and given me a runaway mouth.
‘Please be serious,’ I almost whine. ‘I need to know you’re going to delete the files.’
‘I am not. At least, not now. But once we have solid grounds for divorce, I promise I won’t share.’ He shoots me that sly smile again. ‘I won’t even watch.’
‘But why would you want to keep them?’
‘Because I can.’
‘You’re a sadistic bastard.’ How come I never realised before?
‘You know it,’ he says, turning his gaze to the front of the car. ‘You married it, and you enjoyed it before you fucked it all up.’
‘Wefucked it up, Dylan. You can’t pile it all on me.’
‘Regardless,’ he replies coolly, ‘this is your path to a divorce. The one you chose, at least.’
‘Some choice,’ I spit, immediately regretting the truth in my words. I promised myself I’d play it cool—play him at his own game because I didn’t believe he’d really force me to sleep with someone else. Even the video he so maliciously shared, he’d somehow kept me to himself by not revealing my face. I thought he was posturing; making me feel bad—like I need any help, given the choices I made—because sharing was never his thing. He didn’t even like other men looking at me. But now? Let’s say I’m beginning to stress, even if I am acting like having sex with another man is no big deal.
Case in point: ‘You’re really going to watch while some random screws me seven ways from Sunday?’
My heart literally skips a beat as the car pulls to a stop—I haven’t been watching where we were going. Surely, we can’t be there yet, whereverthereis?
Then the door opens from the outside.
‘Guess you’re about to find out.’
‘Welcome to the Copper Club,’ a deep voice intones.
I stare up into the tan face of my one-person reception committee, contemplating the limited options I have.
‘You’ll have to excuse my wife,’ Dylan replies languidly, exiting the car himself. He walks around to the open door. ‘She’s a little shocked. Granted, it is an unusual anniversary gift, but she does enjoy being fucked.’ I glower up at him, despite the malicious glint in his eye. ‘By other men, especially.’
Knees together—like my mother taught me—I swing them from the car, realising I still have the glass in my hand as Dylan takes it from me.
‘No more of this for you.’ His whisper is hot against my neck, his hand just as searing at the base of my bare spine.
I step away from his touch. Continuing with the venomous looks, this time over my shoulder, I saunter towards the entrance of ... I thought we were going to a club.Why? Probably too many kinky books read at my wee book club.Maybe I’d expected something dark, sleek, and a little foreboding. Not this.
The house—because that’s what it is, just a house—looks like it could’ve been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. It’s all angles, glass, and exposed wood. The kind of house that could’ve been built anytime between the 1920’s and now. Modern, yet ageless.Ultra-modern yet not.
Thirty minutes tops on the road so I figure we must be in Bel Air.101 North. 405 South; I stopped paying attention after that. Yeah, Bel Air. It has to be.
I reallyshouldn’t have drunk so much. I should’ve kept my wits.
