Heather Manning. I roll the name around on my tongue, wondering if it will ever sound right. Lacey fits her personality. Fits her. She doesn’t look like a Heather, but whatever her name is, she looks like mine.
I step off the elevator, pushing the food cart to my room. My girl is still sleeping when I wheel breakfast in. Slipping back into bed with her. I wrap an arm around her from behind, pressing my lips to the side of her neck. I cup one of her breasts, rubbing my thumb over her nipple while sliding my other palm down to her pussy. I wake her up with my fingers in her.
“Ah. Ah.” She wakes up moaning for me, reaching for my dick.
Her deft fingers grip me, stroking my shaft, guiding me to her heat. I enter her slick hole in one swift thrust, sinking into liquid velvet. Fuck me, I want to nut all in her. Claim her in every way. She might be married, but she’s meant to be mine.
She’s my sweetness.
My Lacey.
Chapter Ten
Lacey
I can think of no better way to wake up than having the thick cock of a filthy biker inside me. I can’t stop smiling in the shower. Is this really my life? Kevlar flashes in my mind, but so does another man.
“Fucking bitch,” he shouts before his fist connects with my head. I touch the back of my head as the memory turns hazy again. My stomach sours and my headache returns. I stay in the shower until the hot water abandons me. My teeth chatter as I wrap a towel around my body.
Who is the other man, and why did he try to hurt me? I hug the towel tighter to my body. My cold, wet hair sticks to my back. Beads of water race down my spine and get absorbed by the white cotton I’m wrapped in. The beginning of a panic attack sets in. Shaky hands, difficulty catching my breath. I grip the sink, resting my head against the fogged mirror.
The anger behind that voice makes my skin crawl. Chill bumps fan across my arms.
“Got breakfast,” Kevlar’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.
I suck in a breath followed by another and remember that no matter who that voice belongs to, they aren’t here. They can’t hurt me. Not while I have Kevlar. I put a smile on my face, hiding my unease, and get dressed.
By the time I finish drying my hair, Kevlar has had breakfast. My covered plate sits on the dresser. He’s out on the balcony on the phone, arguing with someone. I wonder if it has anything to do with me. I grab my plate and sit on the edge of the bed with it, unsure if I will be able to consume any of the pancakes and sausage links. I nibble on a strawberry, testing the tart fruit against my soured stomach.
“You’re an idiot. Why would you go there? Wanted a job, my ass. Fucking hell, Candy. Stupid as hell. The two of you toxic shits belong together, you know that.” He stomps back into the room, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
“Everything okay?”
“Not even close.”
My spine tingles as he shoves a set of keys into his pocket. “Are you leaving?”
“Got some stuff to take care of,” he mutters.
“Oh.” My face falls. Dread and disappointment wash over me.
“Hey.” He crouches down in front of me. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Sure. You’ve got to go. I understand.”
“You worried about being here alone?”
I bite my lip and nod.
“Would you feel better if I got Ashley to keep you company until I get back?”
“No. I’ll be okay,” I lie.
“I won’t be long.” I nod as his lips brush across my forehead. “See you soon.”
As soon as he leaves, I lay my plate of food to the side and flop back on the bed. I close my eyes and return to the memory that surfaced while I was in the shower.
A man. My husband? His name echoes in my mind. Phillip. I see him as if through a fuzzy screen. His face is hard but handsome. When he looked at me, he was never truly smiling. Always judging. Always waiting for me to mess up. He wasn’t always so cold and cruel, but something changed.
