Page 93 of Beautifully Reckless

Me? That’s the best therapy a man can get.

Fuck.

I need to figure out how to bring up marriage with Abbey. And I need to do it tonight.

Will she understand?

Will she feel trapped again, like she did with her parents?

Will she flat-out refuse?

The barn door creaks open and JD strolls in, carrying a few empties, tossing them in the bin as he passes, moving to the fridge.

“You wanna come sit by the fire?” he asks, eyeing me over the open fridge door.

“Is Abbey out there?” I stand, stretching my neck from one side to the other.

“Nah, man. Think she went up to bed a few hours ago.”

I nod, considering whether I should go to her, even after I lied and told her Ma wouldn’t want us sharing a room.

Would she let me touch her like she did back at the Western? Maybe she’d let me taste her pink flesh this time.

I could run the marriage thing by her as she comes apart on my fingers, while she’s in an orgasm coma.

Fuck. I want all of that except for the part where I try to seduce her into something she’ll likely say no to under normal circumstances.

“I think I’ll enjoy the quiet in here for a bit,” I mutter, and JD frowns, a six-pack now in hand.

“Everything okay?”

“Bout as okay as it was before,” I deadpan, and JD cringes.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Just don’t stay up too late. I’ll need all hands on deck first thing in the morning to get this place ready for the club.”

“You got it.” He nods, then leaves me to wallow in this fucked up mess.

Oddly enough, my misery isn’t about the fact that I’m being railroaded into marrying Abbey, because honestly, I like the idea of her being my wife.

My misery is because I hate taking this decision away from her.

She deserves better than this. Better than me and this fucked up life I live.

She’s not a club wife or an old lady. She’s too good for that life.

“Fuck,” I hiss to myself.

“Are you talking to yourself now?”

I fucking jump at Lani’s voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Make some noise when you enter a room,” I snap at my sister, who just smirks and pulls out the bar stool beside me and takes a seat.

“I wasn’t quiet, Cam.” She rests her arms on the bar. “So, what’s going on? You’ve been off ever since you got home.”

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

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