As I got in bed beside her, pulling the duvet around us, letting Silver roll into my arms to rest her head on my chest … I remembered too late that I’d always been shit at lying to myself.
22.Tierney
The muscles in the back of my thighs made themselves known with a pulling ache as I climbed the hill to my B and B with coffee in hand. Two black Americanos — one for me, one for Ramsay. Last night, Ramsay had pushed my thighs to my chest as he fucked me. It looked like I’d need to restart Pilates if he was going to be bending me into different positions like that.
It was three days after we’d started our affair.
The day after our first night, I was sore enough from taking him that I needed a twenty-four-hour reprieve. Ramsay had looked so cocky about this, I wanted to smack the smirk right off his face and then ride him, despite the ache between my legs. Instead, I’d kissed him like I wanted to fuck him but wouldn’t and he’d glowered at me afterward, knowing exactly my game.
The last two nights, however, we were back in business. I’d spent my evenings on Stòr being thoroughly distracted from the shitstorm of my life by the dirtiest, most thrilling sex I’d ever had.
In fact, I didn’t know how I’d ever return to normal sex after this.
Would I have to have that awkward conversation with potential future partners—that I liked to give up control when it came to sex? That I liked to be ordered around and have filthy words whispered in my ear? That I liked to bespanked?
How did you even bring something like that up?
And surely it defeated the purpose to have to train my future partner to give me what I wanted in bed.
The very thought of being with anyone after Ramsay nauseated me.
Wasn’t that a blaring alarm bell I shouldn’t ignore?
Yet I did, in favor of enjoying my current favorite method of escapism.
Ramsay had dropped me off at my apartment this morning so I could change my clothes (I’d already showered with him, and let’s just say things got a whole lotta dirty before they got clean) and check my emails while he continued onto the B and B. I had a bunch of texts from Cammie to whom I’d confessed. I’d quickly responded, planning to meet her this afternoon for a catch-up.
It had only been two hours since I’d seen Ramsay, and yet butterflies fluttered to life in my belly at the thought of seeing him again.
Those butterflies dropped dead as soon as I cleared the brow of the hill and saw Quinn talking to a guy in a suit in my large driveway.
That guy was Hugh.
What the hell was he doing here?
Blood whooshed in my ears. Not from fear. Not from mere annoyance.
From actualfurythat this unwanted blast from my past was intruding on my new life. The very idea of his slimy ass anywhere near my island made me want to rip off his nuts. I marched toward him and Quinn. “What are you doing here?” I yelled accusingly.
The two men turned to face me.
Hugh looked immaculate in his three-piece suit, his hair quaffed to perfection. Skin smooth from weekly facials. Nails clipped and buffed and filed by the same aesthetician. He looked expensive. I knew without moving closer he smelled expensive too.
Yet Quinn towered over him by a couple of inches and a lot of bulk, his stubble screaming he needed a shave, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes from laughter and life, and his clothes and hands dusty and dirty from construction.
To me, my contractor looked like a million bucks and Hugh a snivelly little eel who needed to slither back from where he came from in his three-thousand-dollar suit.
My ex’s expression hardened. “Me? Where the hell were you last night? The hotel owner said you lived on Main Street, but I got no answer and there were no lights on in your apartment.”
My tone was filled with contempt. “You’re stalking me now? Did the not answering your calls and blocking your numberthreetimes not send a clear enough message?”
Quinn’s expression darkened. “See, I knew when he told me he was your boyfriend, there had to be a mistake.”
Horror suffused me. “What? What reality are you living in?” I seethed at Hugh in disbelief. “No, Quinn, he’s the slime who cheated on me back in New York. I dumped his ass almost a year ago, and he’s been harassing me for the last few months. I have no idea what he’s doing here now.”
Hugh let out an exasperated huff. “I’m here to bring you back where you belong. I gave you time. What I didn’t give you was permission to fuck off to Scotland and buy a piece of shit building on a fucking forgotten island!”
Was he insane?
