Page 75 of Vengeful Lies

“Fuck you,” she says but does as she’s told. I chuckle.

“I’m not opposed to it.” I look up and wink at her. She finishes the glass of water and then splays out on the bed. It’s not long before a soft snore leaves her.

Clearly, she cannot handle her alcohol.

Standing up, I pick her up and put her comfortably on the bed so she doesn’t complain about a sore back or neck the next day. My cock swells as my gaze roams down her figure. She’s only wearing her bra and underwear. I feel bad for the mess I left behind on her, so I go to her bathroom and wet a towel.

I clean up the mixture of blood and cum from her skin.

I don’t feel bad lying to my parents, but I am starting to notice how perfectly this little she-devil might fit into my life. That thought becomes uncomfortable because just as I feel like I’m getting my fill of this woman, I’m yearning for more. I can’t get her out of my head or my bloodstream, which might be turning into a weakness.

She turns over in her sleep, reaching for her pillow and hugging it tight.

She is beautiful. Stunning, really.

And then she starts to snore again.

CHAPTER 39

Jewel

My head is sore. Correction—it’s fucking pounding. Drinking yesterday was a bad idea. I’ve never been a heavy drinker. I’ve had a few drinks here and there, but my father wasn’t a drinker, and Craig hardly ever drank around me, so I never had any interest in it. Besides, I never liked the idea of being out of control. But yesterday, I clung to it like a crutch as I freaked the fuck out over seeing myself wearing a wedding dress.

A real fucking wedding dress.

Me.

In a wedding dress.

Heat floods my core as I think about the many sinful things I did in said wedding dress.

I groan as my phone starts ringing. I reach for it a few times, but then I give up. I brush my fingers through my hair with one eye open, and my hand snags on something.

Is my hair in a fucking braid?

My phone rings again, and I grumble as I sit up, the room spinning. I find a glass of water next, plus a couple of headache tablets on my bedside table. How did they get there?

My boots are sitting neatly on the floor at the side of the bed, and my phone won’t stop ringing.

I answer it.

“Hello,” I mumble, willing my blinds to close themselves to prevent the bright light from seeping in.

“Good morning. Either let me in, or I’ll break the door down.”

I sigh at Eli’s demanding voice.

“Fine,” I say as I stand, the room swirling around me. Definitely never drinking again.

Managing to make it to the door, I fling it open to find him standing on the other side, nicely dressed in a suit. That’s when I look down at myself and realize I’m half-naked. I grumble because it’s all I can manage to do before I turn and head straight back to my room. He closes the front door and follows me.

Crawling straight back into bed, I pull the bed covers over my face and hope he’ll just go away. The bed dips under his weight, but he doesn’t say anything. He just shifts my head onto his lap and brushes his fingers through my hair. I want to fight him, but I just don’t have the energy, and the head stroking is nice.

I must fall back asleep, and when I wake up again, I peek out from underneath the blanket.

“Did you braid my hair last night?” I ask with a dry mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, staring down at me with a smug expression.

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