Page 131 of Scandalous Games

I also had the worst case of butterflies in my stomach because even away, he constantly smothered me with his texts, calls, and video calls. Like he was going through the same withdrawal I was. Like he felt as miserable as I did.

He’s too perfect at being a fake husband and pretending that what we have is real.

That our bond is more than lust and fatal attraction.

Or maybe it stopped being ‘pretend’ a while ago…Before I can dare to admit it to myself, I arrive at my apartment building and a few minutes later, take the elevator up to my floor. It’s funny how easily I’ve forgotten my old apartment as my home. When I had gone downstairs one day, it hadn’t felt the same or brought the same feelings to rise in my chest.

Until this morning, I was brimming with giddy excitement and actually considered surprising Dash by waiting for him naked. But my stupid period has ruined all my naughty fantasies. Naked and surprise never works in my favor, it seems.

I may sound desperate for his touch, something he easily turns me into with a few filthy words. After all, he has already fucked me. But anal doesn’t count. I might be the first woman to let a man fuck her ass instead of her pussy after meeting him after years and enjoying it.

Then again, nothing about him and I is conventional.

The lock clicks and I push the door open before throwing my purse carelessly on the cream-colored sofa. I forget to walk slowly when pain hits my lower stomach as I take hurried steps, desperate to find the bed instead of going to the kitchen.

I’ll order from the bedroom.

As soon as I enter it upstairs, tiredness hits me with a force and without bothering to change my clothes, I throw myself on the bed and curl into a comfortable ball. My plan is to always sleep to avoid the worst waves of cramps. Basically, I turn into a live robot, not moving unless absolutely necessary.

Switching on the AC to full blast and turning off the lights, I hike the blanket over my shoulder and will myself to nap. It doesn’t take long before I’m halfway asleep with Dash and anticipation for his arrival on my mind.

In my hazy state, I feel I should probably leave him a text but my phone is downstairs.

Never mind, he’s always late anyway.

***

A frenzied and worried voice penetrates through the fog of my peaceful slumber, followed by warm hands pushing my hair back from my face. I push them away when it tickles, not wanting to be disturbed. My whole body aches and if I wake up, it’s only going to get worse.

But those grabby hands are insistent and strong, and they actually feel nice.

“You’re worrying me, kitten.” The soft voice stirs me.Am I dreaming of Dash?“Wake up, please.”

I blink my eyelids open, trying to recognize my surroundings through the blurriness. My thoughts are all frayed and when Dash’s pinched face comes in my line of vision, I jerk awake with a startle.

“Dash.” My voice comes out scratchy as I sit up in bed. I swallow the dryness in my throat before asking in a daze, “Is it night already?”

“No. It’s the middle of the day.”

“Then… why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at your meeting?”

“You didn’t pick up my calls.”

“Huh?”

“I texted and then called you several times but they went ignored,” he explains, the angles of his face tight with a mixture of tension and anxiety. His right palm cups my cheek, observing me unnervingly. “Why do you look so pale?”

My stomach chooses the moment to throb in pain and it makes my eyes sting. I hide my gaze, not wanting Dash to notice and give an explanation.

“I’m fine. I left my phone downstairs.” I turn sideways, making his hand drop. “You should go to your meeting.”

“Stubborn girl. I don’t give a fuck about my meeting,” he growls, pulling me onto his lap when I move to slide off the bed by using the momentum in his favor. Tilting my eyes back to his, he confesses, “You nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn’t get in touch with you. Do you realize that? Then I find you passed out in bed and looking sick. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“What? No.” I push at his chest when he goes to stand. My cheeks flame in slight embarrassment and playing with the top button on his shirt, I say in one long string of words. “Itsmytimeofthemonth.”

“You’re going to have to speak slowly, kitten.”

Kill me now. “I am menstruating, okay? They make me sleepy and achy. I don’t need a doctor.”

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