Page 10 of Dead Bled Ringer
My skin crawled with despair.
I can’t say shit about that, I know I can’t say shit, but something still comes out of my mouth.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Fuck you!” she snarled like a little kitten, jerking her head up so she popped me under the chin.
Arousal was pounding through my veins again as my fingers bit down on her deliciously soft belly. I wanted to throw her down on the table and fuck her again, bury my face between her plump thighs and dig my teeth in that juicy ass, but just then I heard the sound of the garage door opening.
Henry was home
And he was going to think I should be gone already because that was the plan. I was supposed to fuck her and leave and why would I stay unless there was another reason to . . .
Angelise heard the sound, too, and she wrenched herself from my grip, flying to the door.
“I’m sorry,” I said roughly. “I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
But she completely ignored me, stalking across the lawn and back into the house.
The minute she got in the kitchen she confronted him, her fists clenched tightly by her side.
“Did you set this up?” she demanded.
“Set what up?” Henry asked.
Oh, always fucking cool as a cucumber, the lying bastard.
“Did you set your brother up to come role-play with me instead?”
Henry’s cold eyes flicked over to me. They’re expressionless, but I can tell he’s very angry at my failure.
Oh you bastard, don’t even think about it. . .
But my brother didn’t even pause.
“Of course not,” he said smoothly, stepping across the glass I broke and stroking Angelise’s hair. “He’s been jealous of me fora while, but I wouldneverhave allowed him to do this. He must have seen it on my planner somehow and taken advantage of you.”
Then Henry turned and gripped me by the throat. “You’re a sick degenerate freak.”
His cruel fingers tightened as he slammed my head back against the wall, and because of Angel, I had to stand there and take it as she cowered behind Henry.
Like I was a monster.
Chapter Three
ANGELISE
“And how did that make you feel?” Dr. Willoughby-Horton asked, in her cool neutral way.
I stared up at the soft cream-colored walls of the marriage therapist’s office.
Such soft, soothing colors to calm the many distressed and angry people who must come to her for help.
But what the fuck color wallpaper is soothing enough to help when you find out you fucked your bastard brother-in-law instead of your husband?
“Violated. Betrayed,” I said. “I don’t know Hunter very well, but we’ve always been on good terms. I thought. I don’t know what would have made him do something like this.”
“He’s always been like that,” Henry said, rubbing my shoulders encouragingly. “A deviant.”
