Page 294 of Darling Venom
Rocking back on my heels, I faltered for something to say before settling on, “Who did you think I was?”
“Katrina.” The words were blunt, like it wasn’t a big deal that he’d been waiting for a married woman to have sex with him.
Worse—he’d mentioned a boyfriend, which meant she was cheating on Basil’s dad and another man with Nash.
What happened to you, Nash?
He had gone from Knight in Shining Armor to a version of Maleficent that was so indifferent toward me, he didn’t even bother extending a poisoned apple.
Until now.
Only the apple was a rock-hard penis, and I imagined it felt much better than a poisoned apple tasted.
I whisper-shouted, conscious of Betty and Hank one door down, “You fucked me thinking I was someone else?!”
My hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me. So what if I thought he was his brother? It was different. I was in love. He thought I was a married woman. Okay, we both mistook one another for other people, but for my sanity’s sake, I needed to believe we were different.
You are not as bad as Nash Prescott, Emery. This is his fault.
Nope.
Even I didn’t believe my bullshit.
I’d been the one to climb onto him, not bothering to confirm his identity.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Fuck,” he toyed with the word, looking genuinely surprised. “Dirty word for a goodie two shoes…”
Good.
Like being nice and biting my tongue every time Mother spoke somehow made me less than him.
It pissed me off. I raised my arm stupidly. I wouldn’t hit him. I didn’t know what I would do, but it was a reflex, and it amused him.
“Easy, Tiger.”
He didn’t waver as he desecrated two words he’d said to me years ago when I’d run into his and Reed’s arms at the cotillion. I pushed the past away, not wanting to humanize Nash while I felt so furious at him.
He continued, either oblivious or uncaring, “I figured it out a second before you came. I wouldn’t have fucked you if I’d known it was you. I don’t fuck teenyboppers.”
A wave of awkwardness and embarrassment descended upon me.
I fought it.
Hard.
Lifting my chin, I glared at him. “I’m eighteen.”
Barely.
The ten-year age gap between us felt unbridgeable.
But at least it gave me something to focus on besides the fact that I had sex with the wrong Prescott.
Fuck.
Reed.
