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Her.
The woman who wore cotton panties and blushed. The one with soft touches and sweet smiles.
The liquor began to simmer inside, calming me and loosening the tension in my shoulders. Everything was so fucked up. This was the life I had expected with Allison Banks—a cold, separated marriage. I could kick myself for falling in love with the idea of more than a marriage in name.
Maybe I would talk to her in the morning—figure out what changed and fix the problem—but until then, I needed to stay away from her.
Finishing yet another glass, I lay back on the couch, trying to get comfortable on the dark leather. Grabbing a throw off the back, I tossed it over my legs and set the glass on the floor beside the couch.
Everything had somehow shifted, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
Not wanting to go back to the room and sleep next to her, I prepared to sleep on the couch. I closed my eyes, and the last thing I saw in my mind was my angel, looking sweet and sexy for me in nothing but my T-shirt and bare skin.
Then there was nothing, and I fell into an uncomfortable sleep.
