Page 38 of Worth Risking It

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” Her sight shifted back to her own reflection, her voice distant. “I love it.”

Tugging the thighs of my pajama pants, I squatted, my wrist draped on the back of her chair. Tucking her locks behind her ear, I hooked the finger and stroked her cheek. “You okay, baby girl?”

Her expression fell further. “Mm hm.”

My finger under her chin, I tugged tenderly to make her look at me. “What’s wrong?”

She took a sharp inhale, her shoulders sagging forward. “Just thinking about last year. Me and Jennifer spent Christmas Eve laying on the floor under our tiny, ugly tree, staring at the lights on the ceiling, planning to go on a cruise in the summer.” She moved her chin to the side then down to get away from my touch, running her fingers over the bristles of her brush.

“You want to go on a cruise this summer? I can arrange that.”

She clicked her teeth and stood abruptly, untying the sash and shrugging her shoulders, the thin material fluttering to the floor.

Groaning, watching the round cheeks of her ass sway with her steps, I stood and strode to the center of the room to keep watching her when she went into the closet. Opening one of the built in drawers where she kept her lingerie, she pulled out a pink, satin gown and draped it over her shoulders, her breasts jiggling as she smoothed it down her curves.

Christ, my woman had a fantastic body. She was phenomenal.

She waltzed past me and turned the bed down, crawling onto the mattress.

“Baby girl, what is wrong?”

“Jennifer!” she whined, slamming her hands on either side with frustration.

I sat next to her, rubbing her thigh through the blankets. “You miss your friend, huh?”

Her bottom lip puckered, and she blinked her lashes quickly. “I know it’s stupid, she was horrible to me. I obviously didn’t really know her and couldn’t trust her, but—”

“She was your friend, and you miss having that connection.”

“I hate her for sleeping with you,” she muttered, motioning her hands to the left. Then she shifted them to the right and stated, “But forgave you for sleeping with her. How does that make sense?”

“Are you saying you want to forgive her?”

“No, no. Absolutely not. But…” She tugged her bottom lip, averting her gaze. “Doesn’t that make me a hypocrite that I didn’t kick you to the curb, as well?”

Filling my lungs, my cheeks puffed out before I exhaled through tight lips. I was getting ready to say one of the hardest sentences of my life, for it was basically openly admitting that I was a selfish bastard.

“There was a difference. She lied to you and snuck around behind your back.” I bowed my chin, picking at the blanket over her legs. “I never told you you were the only one I was sleeping with. You always knew I still had other women.”

As suspected, this did not make her feel any better. Her lids narrowed, her lips taut. Sliding down the mattress, she rolled to her side and pulled the blanket to her shoulders. I was smart enough to know I was being dismissed.

“Chazzy, for what it’s worth, you are the love of my life and I—”

“I’m really tired, Milo.”

My heart sank. Since being together, she’d never gone to bed angry with me. We always made up. I didn’t like this feeling. It was…hopelessness.

Coughing, I stood, rubbing my palms on the sides of my thighs. I bent over to kiss her cheek, but she curled her shoulder upward and ducked beneath the blanket.

Gutted, I stared at her with dismay. Rebuffed? She flat out rebuffed me? That’s…that’s never happened; not with her…not with any woman.

A knife twisting in my heart, I rubbed my chest and quietly left the room, taking the stairs to the main level. What the hell was this feeling? I didn’t understand this. My whole life, I had always gotten whatever I wanted, when I wanted it. Sure, sometimes I faced a challenge, more so with Chastity than anyone else, but that only made me want it more.

This was…complete denial. Why did it feel so goddamn wretched? I felt disgusted inside. Who the hell lived this way?

Making my way to the kitchen, my anger rising by the second, I snarled and shoved the door to the side, hitting the wall. Snatching the fridge open, I grabbed the bottle of pomegranate juice, drinking straight from the container.

I gazed around the immaculately clean kitchen and froze. Chastity ran this huge house by herself. She didn’t hire maids or cooks, she hadn’t even hired an interior designer. Every wall painted, she did herself with Wyatt’s help. She cooked for the four of us every morning and every night when we weren’t going out to dinner. Sometimes, if she wasn’t running late, she even had lunches made for me and Frank to take to the office.