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His eyes flash with torment.
He thrusts harder.
And he growls, “Don’t say that to me.”
I grasp his neck and fuck him as madly as he’s fucking me. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
He drives his dick harder into me.
I claw his skin with my nails, loving the hiss that escapes his lips even more than I love the pleasure he’s giving me. “I did not send you a text.”
“You fucking did.”
I crush my fingers around his neck harder. “Why did you choose Cecelia?”
“She can get the job done.”
“I hate her for you.”
The approval that flares in his eyes can’t be missed.
His hips move faster and determination fills his features.
“Fuck,” he rasps as everything gets faster, as his arm and shoulder muscles flex tighter.
I come while he keeps pumping into me.
I see all that color again and it only grows more intense, more overwhelming when Bradford thrusts one last time and comes. When he drops his head to my shoulder, the color bursts into brighter shades of red.
I want his head on my shoulder every day.
I want him inside me every day.
I want to know if he smiled every day.
He pulls out and moves off the bed without a second glance, stalking into the bathroom. The slam of the door behind him moves through me with the kind of chill that is bone deep. Soul deep.
I don’t think; I feel.
I move off the bed and go in search of his phone in the pocket of his trousers. I key in his passcode and pull up his messages. Scrolling back so far that it hurts, I finally locate my name and tap it.
My heart beats so goddamn fast it feels like it could burst while I read the last two messages that were sent nine months ago.
Bradford: I’m waiting for you, Kristen, but it’s fucking killing me.
Kristen: Stop waiting. I’ve changed my mind. I’m done. I was wrong to think you could ever give me what I need. I’m going to marry Phillip.
I stare at the messages, reading them over and over. And over.
I did not send that message.
I would never send Bradford a message like that.
“Did you get what you need?”
My head snaps up and I find Bradford standing over me, looking down with more of that darkness.
I scramble to stand. “I promise you I did not send that text to you. If I had my phone here, I would show you.”
