Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“What?”
“This room. Why did you bring me into this room, Roger? Why not down to your bedroom? You could have easily tied me up to your bed frame. Why in here?”
My thoughts raced for an answer. “It was closer.”
Her head tilted ever so slightly. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
She stood quickly and sent me a withering glare. “Don’t play fucking stupid with me, Roger. What in the hell happened with you? You just left me in here like I was nothing but a woman you paid to fuck.”
I jerked my head back as if she’d slapped me across the face.
“You bring me to a spare bedroom, you tell me not to look at you, then you simply walk out and tell me to take a shower without you?”
I rubbed at the back of my neck. “I…I needed a couple of minutes.”
Her brows pulled in tightly. “For what? You needed a couple of minutes for what? Is this some sick little game you like to play? How many other women have you tied up and done this with?”
My eyes widened in horror. “None. I told you, I’ve never tied up a woman before. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Tears started to build in her eyes. “Who were you thinking about?”
I stared at her, unable to even form words.
“You tell me not to look at you, then you treat me like a mistake.”
I shook my head. “No, Anna.”
“Someone not even worthy enough to be in your own bed. Is that why you never brought me here to your house? Because I’m not good enough for your bed?”
“No, that’s not…” I took a step toward her and stopped.
“Who is she?”
I ran my hand down my face. “There isn’t anyone.”
“Who is she?” Annalise asked again softly.
I stood there like a fucking fool. Maybe it was better if she thought there was someone else. Things were getting too complicated. My feelings for her were growing into something I could not allow. I was fucking falling for her, and knowing how she felt about me… I couldn’t process it right then.
When I didn’t give her an answer, she wiped a tear away and started for the door.
My heart screamed out, Stop her.
I lifted my hand, then closed it into a fist and let her walk past me.
Closing my eyes, I attempted to make sense of the emotions that swirled around in my heart like a tornado.
The sound of the front door slamming snapped me out of my daze. I ran down the steps, through the house, and out the door.
“Where are you going?” I called out as she started down the long sidewalk toward the street.
“Home.”
I started toward her. “Annalise, you can’t walk home.”
She spun and shot me a look of pure anger. I stopped in my tracks. “I don’t need your help getting home.”
“How—?”
At that moment, a white Toyota Camry pulled up. Annalise turned and practically ran for it. I leaned down to see who it was, but all I could tell was that a woman was driving.
“There isn’t anyone, Annalise!” I shouted right before she shut the door and the car drove off.
I watched the road until I could no longer see the car.
“Fuck!” I shouted, pushing my hands into my hair. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
It took every ounce of strength I had to walk back into my house. The urge to go after her was so strong, I nearly drove my fist through the wall. But how in the hell could I explain it all to her? The reason I didn’t want her in my bed. Why I couldn’t let her look at me with such love in her eyes when all I’d wanted to do was hide from my own feelings. And to do that, I ended up fucking her instead of making love to her like I had wanted to.
“Christ, you’re fucked up, Carter,” I whispered as I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. I headed out to the back porch, where I spent the next few hours trying to drink my feelings away.
I stood in front of the large window in my office and stared at the people walking down Main Street. Almost all of them were tourists. Another reason I wanted to move farther out of town. My eyes caught on a woman with blonde hair walking down the street, and I immediately knew it was her.
Just like I knew she usually walked to the Bear Moon Café nearly every day for lunch.
Just like I knew every morning at seven she went to Black Rifle Coffee and ordered the same drink: a chai tea latte.
The ache in my chest grew with every step she took. When she’d passed the parking lot and moved out of view, I turned and walked back over to my desk.
It had been two weeks since she’d gotten into that car, which I now knew belonged to Elizabeth, her coworker at The Montclair.