Charlie lifts my other leg over his shoulder and picks up his pace, thrusting inside me like he’ll die if he doesn’t come. His face is still cradled in my neck as he slams inside me at this punishing angle, and I know the moment he reaches his peak because his entire body locks up tight and he emits an animalistic roar birthed from someplace deep. Then he’s jerking and pulsing inside me, his body trembling and shaking over me as he comes.
“I love you, Abby,” he whispers in my ear, and I stop breathing. Blood rushes to my head, and a heavy weight presses down on my chest at his words.
You can let me pretend.
His earlier words reverberate in my mind as I curse my stupidity. I thought he meant he wanted to pretend everything was okay, that his father hadn’t died, but I got it completely wrong, and now I feel sick. Nausea twists and turns in my gut as I crash back to Earth with a bang.
He hasn’t been with me in this.
The intimacy and pleasure I felt between us as we made love was a lie. No wonder he’s barely kissed me. Barely looked at me.
He hasn’t been present.
He’s been with her.
This Abby woman.
Whoever she may be.
He’s stopped moving, and the only sounds in the room are our joint heavy breaths. I was under no illusion. I knew this was only a one-time thing. We’re from two different worlds, and we both needed this for various reasons. But it still meant something to me. And now, I’m hurt. I feel cheap. Used. As irreplaceable as a worthless whore.
I shouldn’t be surprised. His father is a cruel prick with little regard for other people’s feelings too. It stands to reason his son would be the same. I shove at his shoulders as tears prick my eyes. I’m such a gullible fool. “Get off me.”
He lifts his head from my shoulder, staring at my face with a puckered brow.
I glare at him as I push his shoulders again. I need to put as much distance between us as I can, and I can’t get away from him fast enough.
He climbs off me like an elegant gazelle, standing over me with a frown, watching as I grab my clothes and hastily pull them on.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks as I yank my leggings up my legs.
I snort, purposely not looking at him. He’s standing there in all his naked glory, and I know one look will have my ovaries purring like a kitten in heat. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to look beyond the exterior and find real attraction buried underneath, but tonight, I threw all my beliefs in the toilet for a tryst with a hot guy who was in pain. Only, the joke’s on me, because I could have been any warm body. I bet he doesn’t even remember my name.
I slip my feet into my boots and look up at his handsome face, finding him ugly now. “Who is Abby?”
He visibly pales, and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat. A few seconds tick by, and it’s obvious he’s not going to answer.
Asshole.
I prod my finger into his chest. “You fucked me imagining I was her. I at least deserve to know who she is.”
Air whooshes out of his mouth as he claws his hands through his hair. Torment is etched across his face, but I’m not falling for it this time. I’ve no idea what is going on here, but I want no part of it.
“She’s my wife,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from my face.
“I…” I falter, unable to form words to convey my horror at what’s just happened. Bile travels up my throat. I abhor cheating. It’s a major no-no in my book. And this asshole—my new boss—has just made me an accomplice to adultery. I struggle to breathe over the pain settling on my chest. “You make me sick,” I say, fighting angry tears. “I would never have had sex with you if I’d known you were married.” Like, the guy’s only eighteen or nineteen, and none of my colleagues told me he was married. In fact, if the rumors are to be believed, he’s the quintessential playboy bachelor. I don’t understand.
“We only got married today,” he says, adding to my horror.
I slap a hand over my mouth, staring at him in shock. A few tears sneak out of my eyes, dripping down my face, but I angrily swipe at them as rage overtakes every other emotion I’ve been feeling.
I’ve just been fucked in more ways than one. This is a clusterfuck of life-altering possibilities, but I can’t lose this job. Dad is relying on me, and I’m not letting him down.
“This never happened!” I blurt when I remove my hand from my mouth. “And if you attempt to terminate my employment, I will slap you with a sexual harassment lawsuit quicker than you can frog-march me out the door.”
“I would never do that,” he says, quick to reassure me.
But I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, and I’m not buying it.
He pulls on his pants as I storm toward the door. I clutch the door handle, talking to him over my shoulder. “See that you don’t, or I’ll make your life hell,” I promise, hoping he can’t see through my bravado.
“It’s in my interests to keep this secret,” he adds, and my disgust elevates another notch.
I nod tersely as I turn my head to face him. “From now on, it’s strictly professional, and we breathe a word to no one.” A fleeting thought crosses my mind.
I could blackmail him for my silence.
God knows we need the money.
But I dismiss the idea as quickly as it came to me. That’s not who I am. And no good comes from taking dirty money.
“Agreed.” He stares through me as if I don’t exist. And, I guess, to him, I don’t.
“Go home to your wife, Charlie,” I hiss as I whip the door open and stalk outside, wishing I could rewind time and erase the last couple hours from my life.
CHAPTER 1
CHARLIE
Nine Months Later
I keep my head down, jotting notes as the professor’s grating tone projects around the packed auditorium. With all these people here, you’d think it’d be easy to avoid my former friends, but every time I look sideways, I spot Abby or Drew or that asshole Anderson. Doesn’t help that Drew, Shandra, and Anderson’s buddy Lauder are all business majors, like me, and we share a bunch of the same classes. Thank fuck I’m only here part-time. If I was forced to confront them all the time, I’d probably drop out.
My cell pings just as the professor uploads our new assignment on the board and draws the lecture to a close. I glance at the text with a scowl, knowing I’ll be heading into a shitstorm when I step into the office in an hour.
As much as I dread arriving at Rydeville University every morning for classes, I feel physically ill arriving at the high-rise glass building in downtown Boston every lunchtime, because I know her face is one of the first I’ll see.
One look at Demi and I’m reminded of my biggest failures.
Of the night that set everything in motion.
And I fucking hate her for the part she played in my eventual downfall.
Everything about her ties my stomach into painful knots, and if I could get away with firing her sexy ass, I’d have done it a long time ago. But she’s got fire in her belly, and I don’t want to call her bluff. Instead, I go out of my way to make her life a living hell hoping someday soon she’ll get the hint and resign.