Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
…Somehow, the heat pooling between my thighs and the pulse racing through my veins at the thought of him didn’t exactly inspire much confidence in that statement.
Chapter 5
Cole
It was cute the first time she hung up on me. It was humorous the second time, when I used a different phone. But the third time, it just pissed me off.
I wasn’t mad at her, per se, but I was ticked the fuck off that she’d decided to throw up those walls and keep me out. That and not being near her, and not kissing her, or touching her, or breathing in the scent of her was driving me fucking crazy. Like I said, this wasn’t “some girl,” this was her.
My wife.
I didn’t care that probably neither of us fully remembered the wedding. I didn’t care that we’d been drunk enough to go out and get fucking tattoos instead of rings, for whatever tequila-soaked reasons we had at the time. And I certainly didn’t care that after she’d torn her wet clothes off in the hotel room, crawled into bed, and given me those fucking eyes that got my cock hard as a steel bar, she’d fallen right asleep.
No, I hadn’t “tried” anything, because fuck that — that wasn’t me by a fucking mile. Wife or not, I wasn’t about to try a damn thing with a passed out girl. I did crawl into bed after her though, pulling her sweet, supple body against mine as I drifted off myself.
But here we were days later, and not having that body against mine, and not tasting those lips, and not feeling her legs wrap around my hips was driving me out of my mind. I craved her, like I’d never craved anything, or any woman ever. I knew she was more than a little freaked about the whole getting married thing. Plus, she knew who the hell I was, and the reputation that followed me around, and that had to be at least one of the reasons for her avoiding me.
The thing is though, most of the tabloid shit people read and wrote about me was all complete bullshit. And then there was all the current stuff that’d been kept out of the tabloids so far by some well-placed gag orders from my lawyer. Yeah, Faith didn’t know about that shit. She didn’t know her father was one of the three guys trying to bring charges against me and strip me of my crown. If she’d knew that, well, I’m pretty sure we’d have never made it past hello.
But again, it was all bullshit.
This current cesspool of lies was a conspiracy, plain and simple. It’d started with a misunderstanding — one of those “wrong place at the wrong time” type of things that seemed to follow me all over the place. King Rodney, of Urun, had a summer place on Lake Lizet, where I was about to buy a place of my own. We’d gotten acquainted with me being a prospective new neighbor of his, and the man was nice enough to let me stay at his lakefront manor while I was hashing out the deal of my own purchase.
I had the whole damn place to myself, and King Rodney had one kick-ass pool — one of those wild ones with glass walls built on the edge of a cliff. And like I said, the place was empty except for me, so I did what anyone would have done — stripped down and went swimming in the buff.
I didn’t even know she was there until I felt hands slide around my waist, which scared the ever-loving shit out of me. I’d whirled to find Queen Jemma — Rodney’s wife — grinning at me without a stitch of clothing on.
Yeah, no. Fuck that. Despite what the tabloids liked to blab about, I had zero interest in getting involved with married women. Nope, no thanks. For one, who needs that drama, and for two, I just wasn’t the kind of man to pull that kind of shit with another man’s wife — even if that other man’s wife was Queen Jemma looking for a little strange because her and Rodney was “out of touch,” as she’d put it.
Oh, and she’d put it much more plainly than that when she’d tried to reach for my cock. I’d pushed her away of course, but then as fate would fucking have it, that’s when Rodney himself waltzed in. About thirty seconds later, I was running from that house dripping wet, holding my clothes, and trying not to get my fucking head blown off by King Rodney and his hunting rifle.
The whole thing was a misunderstanding that could’ve been cleared up in seconds by Jemma, but the Queen was nuts, and also convinced Rodney was having his own affair. So she went and fucking told him that she and I had been having one, like a complete psychopath.