Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Needing to fix my mistakes, I walk to the bedside table, grab the small bottles of oils the hotel must have left, and then enter the bathroom.
I turn on the bath before notching the nuzzle halfway between the hot and cold symbols. Steam rises slowly, curling around my arms, as I pour in the oils. Natural coconut oil first, then some Pinetarsol.
I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know is that I need to support my wife. It’s vital, instinctive, and non-fucking-negotiable.
I’d rather kill myself than hurt her again.
When I return to the bedroom, I find Azra seated in the same spot, staring at her thighs as if they’re covered in blood instead of a handful of streaks.
“Come on,” I say quietly, nudging my chin to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She glances up, her brows feathered. “You… you don’t want to finish?”
“No.” Again, I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine. “I told you, if you want to wait five years—”
“We’ll wait five years.”
She smiles when I nod, and it slips some of my anger away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers when I scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. “I completely forgot about that tradition.” I realize where most of her unease resides when she murmurs. “If I had gone through with my plan, I would have had to do that with…” A shiver completes her reply.
“He’s never going to touch you. I promise you that.”
She swallows hard before she whispers, “If only you could have promised Hattie the same.” I sit her on the vanity to assist her out of her silky slip as her worry shifts to anarchy. “Do you think they did that? Do you think he forced her to take part?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter honestly. “But I promise you I’ll find out.” Her eyes flicker in thanks as a faint smile tugs at her lips. “Just not until after I’ve made sure you’re okay first.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
“Not just here...”—I tap my index finger on her thigh—“but here as well.” This time, I tap my finger on her chest where her heart sits.
Fighting to ignore the wetness in her eyes, she raises her hands in the air, silently permitting me to remove her satin slip. Since she’s not wearing a bra, her breasts fall heavily to her chest when I sling her dress over her head.
God. Fuck. Shit.
Is there anything about this woman that’s not perfect? Her tits are perky, and her milky brown nipples stand at attention. Her hips are meaty enough to ensure I won’t lose grip while fucking her into oblivion, and even with the ultimate prize covered, I know firsthand how delicious it smells and tastes.
“Cupid is a cunt.”
Azra peers up at me, shocked by my outburst. My comment was a little crude, but there is no nicer word for him.
“He didn’t just shoot me in the ass with his arrow; he dug in the whole fucking tip.”
She laughs, and even in these circumstances, it’s the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard. “Hattie always said love is blind… because Cupid forgot his glasses.”
“I always thought he was like me. Shoots first, asks questions later.”
As her giggles bounce around the bathroom, I help her off the vanity and guide her panties down her legs. I ignore the spasm in my jaw when I notice the smears of blood on the cotton material. I don’t care what she says; she most certainly wore these for Antonio. My grandmother would have felt honored to wear these undergarments.
Or was it for me? I don’t hold back my appreciation of the granny panties.
When I raise my eyes, my rake leisurely since there are so many wonderful points to drink in, Azra’s teeth pierce her lower lip. “I thought if you saw me at my worst, you’d run for the hills.”
“Hate to tell you, sweetheart, but you couldn’t do anything to scare me away.”
She hisses when she first slips into the tub before the oils alter her expression. “Not even confessing that I wanted to torture a man to his death?”
“That would only make me run to you more, especially if the man you’re referencing is Antonio.” I pfft. “What the fuck am I saying? Even if that man was me, I’d still be at your feet, begging for another snippet.”
She calls me a sick fuck under her breath before she asks if I’d like to join her in the tub.
“You sure that’s what you want? Oils are slippery, and I’m a horndog with no morals. Something could slip where it shouldn’t, and I couldn’t be blamed.”
Minutes ago, it seemed too early for banter. I’m glad it bursts through the storm clouds hovering over my head. Every playful comment steals a snippet of the pain in Azra’s eyes.