Page 76 of Tempt Her

Remembering last night with the men. Imagining all the things we can do together. All the toys and sexy lingerie and ways I can tempt them. It makes me blush; loving my dirty ideas.

I’ve never been allowed to have them. Much less to make them happen. But now?

I am.

And I’m going to help other people do it too.

I don’t know how long I’m lost in forbidden dreams before I hearthe sound.

The garage door opening.

It always makes me shudder, twisting my stomach and racing my pulse.

Gentry’s home and this is my nightmare. He’s rarely around anymore, but at least it’s been late when he is, and the guys weren’t here to witness this. How he swings the door open, and I brace for it.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

He’s always cruel. He always insults me.

I look down. I felt so free today with Cade on the beach that I didn’t care. I grabbed an old pair of jean shorts and a tank top and threw them on over my bikini.

“You look like a red-neck whore with your tits and ass hanging out.” Through the mudroom, Gentry storms my way, then halts, clocking Ford working behind me in the kitchen. His tone drops, curling his lip. “Put some clothes on like you have some class. Like you’re the lady of the house in front of the help, and not ‘Girls Gone Wild.’”

I want to spit in his face.

I want to die that Ford is watching this—my dignity getting shredded before Ford’s icy eyes.

“What are you doing home?” Nausea ripples through me. “I thought I was meeting you at the club at six.”

“You are.” Gentry’s stare slithers to my cleavage. “I came home to change. Then you’ll meet me at six for dinner with the Middletons and wear the yellow dress I bought you.” Evil crawls across his glare, stuck on my breasts. “Not this trash. You look like a dime bag trick on her knees, giving a five-dollar blow.”

How he knows that reference only pisses me off more.

Still, he can’t help himself. He gropes my breast. “Is that what you are?”

I push it away. “Stop it.”

But he doesn’t. “In front of these men?” He shoves me against my kitchen desk, squeezing my breast so hard it hurts. “You’re dressed like a dime bag whore, so you can tease them and show them what a dirty little bitch you are?”

I snap my glance at Ford across the kitchen.

He’s glaring like a wolf, baring his teeth about to rip Gentry’s neck open, but that will fuck up my plan.

Don’t do it.

I hope he can read my eyes before I snap my glare back at Gentry. “You’re a senator in front of a witness. How smart is this for re-election?”

Nothing controls Gentry more than appearances—fake ones.

He steps back, his eyes still assaulting my body. “Who saw you dressed like that today? A senator’s wife looking like a tramp.”

“I look like half the people on the beach today.”

“With who?”

“Cade Bryant.”

“Was Silas Van de May with her?”

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