Page 40 of Keep Me In Your Heart

The thought of her naked in my bed has my cock twitching again. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen the least bit of action, and it has me thinking irrationally.

Sure, Sylvie is infuriating and stubborn. I may hate her personality, but her beauty remains, and my cock doesn’t care much about personality.

She emerges from her room a few moments later with pajamas and a toothbrush under her arm. She closes her door behind her before following me to my room.

Once we’re both inside, I close the door and lock it. Sylvie turns back to see my face after the lock clicks into place. Something about being in a locked room together makes her uncomfortable—I can tell.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I unlock it.

She closes herself in the bathroom, and I hear water running and the toilet flushing as I sit on the side of the bed. I’ve soberedup in the past hour, but I still feel numb and reckless. Like I could say anything on my mind. I could do anything.

Normally when I’m drunk, I’m alone or with friends. Being with someone like Sylvie when I’m wasted is dangerous. It makes me want to spill my secrets, and that’s a very,verybad idea.

The door opens, and she comes out in a pair of dark-blue satin pajamas. Her wild strawberry-blond curls are piled on top of her head and wrapped in a satin ribbon. She’s wiped every ounce of makeup from her skin, leaving her cheeks spotted with freckles and her lips bare of color. I’d like to kiss them again to feel what they’d be like without the makeup covering them. Her eyes are so much rounder and brighter without the black lines and shading.

I’m staring for too long. Quickly, I stand up and rush into the bathroom. In there, I douse my face with cold water, brush my teeth, and empty my bladder. I don’t own a pair of pajamas, so my only choice is to sleep in my undergarments and white T-shirt.

When I come out of the bathroom, Sylvie is already curled up on her side, facing away from the middle. I laugh to myself at the row of pillows she’s placed between us. As if pillows could protect her if I wanted to touch her. Which I don’t.

I climb into bed and click off the lamp on the nightstand. I roll away from her, and the room is bathed in silence. It’s so quiet, I can hear her breathe. It’s choppy and shallow. And I can feel a slight quiver on the bed.

My stomach aches with dread.

“Are you really so afraid of me?” I whisper.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she replies defiantly. I let out a sigh before replying.

“I can feel you trembling.”

Silence engulfs us again, and in the silence is the harrowing truth staring at me like a mirror held up to my face. It tells me that I’m too harsh. Too cruel. Truly a brutish monster, as she’s pointed out repeatedly in the past month.

“I’m not,” she argues before punching her pillow and settling back down into the mattress.

We don’t say another word, but even as her breathing settles into a sleeping cadence, I stay awake. I can still feel her shaking.

Chapter Fourteen

When I wake, Sylvie is gone. Her side of the bed still shows the indentation of her body and carries her soft, flowery scent.

I hear movement downstairs, but I don’t stir for a while. Staring at the ceiling, I replay the events of the last twenty-four hours. This whole fake-wife arrangement is so strange. Only a month has gone by and we still have eleven to go.

What will we be like in a year? Will she still hate me? Will she hate me even more?

Can I truly go a full year without sex? Surely at some point, she and I can reach some sort of arrangement where we keep our extramarital affairs between us.

Last night I actively tried to keep her away from Liam, but what if something did happen between them? It would give me the leverage I’d need to do the same. Tit for tat. A secret between us. The contract stays in place, but we still get to have our fun.

Deep down, I hate the idea, but I know it would be better for me in the long run.

It was wrong of me to bring her to my room. The last thing I need to do at this point is treat my wife like…my wife. I don’t need her getting the wrong idea about me. When this is over, shehas to leave. One year, and then I’m on my own again. Besides, I promised her we’d spend this time separately, not with me dragging her to my bed.

When I do finally get up, I hear shouting outside, so I peer out of my large window. Liam is on the vast grassy field outside, shirtless, with a rugby ball under his arm. When he sees me watching, he waves.

“Get your ugly arse out here!” he bellows.

I laugh, spotting Greg, Angus, and Nick on the field as well. They turn to see me, each of them waving. Briefly, I wonder where the women are. Should I be nervous about Sylvie being alone with them, especially Claire?

I shake the thought away. It’s not even ten in the morning. I doubt they’d be sharing stories this early, anyway.

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