bunch of weight, you think it’s okay to go around acting like a judgmental bitch.”
“ What ?”
“That’s right. This is your real personality coming out—you’ve kept it hidden all these years, but the truth is, you’re a bitch and you like to look down your nose at other people and criticize their decisions when they’re just doing the best they can.”
I close my eyes and scrub my hands over my face. “Okay, I’m going to bed. You’re high and this conversation is going in a terrible direction, and I’m done talking tonight.”
I walk past April without looking at her, then retire to my room for my nightly ritual: putting on pajamas, washing my face, then reading for a bit.
I’m lying in bed with my book when there’s a soft knock on the door. Then April opens the door a few inches and peeks in. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said before,” she says. “You’re not a bitch—I’m the one who’s a bitch. I’m a really fucked up person, obviously. So…I apologize. For being a bad sister and a bad girlfriend and a bad—everything. I know I’m wrong.” She shrugs and looks down at her toes. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
“Why don’t you just tell him?” I ask. “Tell him the truth and let him get on with his life.”
She continues staring down at her feet. “Because I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose him yet. I’m just confused right now.” She looks up meets my eyes. “Are you going to tell him?”
I shrug. “I’d rather not. But I’m not going to lie for you anymore, April. I can’t.”
She nods. “I respect that. Goodnight.” And she shuts the door with a soft click.
Chapter 23
Heartache
For the next two weeks, barely a day goes by that Rio and I aren’t intimate. Today he’s lying naked on my bed with his arms folded behind his head. Tan and heavily muscled with an enormous erection springing from the neat patch of black hair between his legs, he looks absolutely obscene on my crisp white sheets.
“Turn around, let me see that ass,” he demands coolly.
I told him about my lingerie collection when we were working out earlier that day. He got a hungry gleam in his eyes, then told me he’d be over after his own training session at the boxing gym. Now I’m putting on a little fashion show for him. At the moment, I’m wearing a sheer red nightie with no underwear.
“Nice,” he says as I turn my back to him. “Now bend over and touch your toes. Let me see those sweet pussy lips.”
I bend over as he instructs, lifting my butt high in the air and enjoying his low hum of appreciation.
“Turn around,” he says, and when I do, he has one hand behind his head and the other one is holding his swollen cock. He looks regal and wicked, and when I’m close enough to touch, he grabs my hand and pulls me on top of him
He’s fresh from the gym, and the heady smell of pheromones hits me like a drug. “You smell so good,” I sigh.
“Really? I was about to apologize for not showering.”
“No, I love it,” I say, kissing his neck and enjoying the taste of salty male sweat. He pulls my nighty over my head and tosses it on the floor, then rolls out from under me.
“Stay there a minute,” he says in a low voice, “There’s something I want to do to you.”
He digs in his gym bag and comes back with what I recognize to be hand wraps. He unrolls them, long strips of black fabric that he wraps around his fists to keep them protected underneath his boxing gloves.
“I sense where you might be going with this,” I say with a smile.
“Shhh.” He takes my ankle and wraps the fabric around it, then ties it securely. Next he guides my arm down to my ankle, and ties the strap so my wrist and ankle are bound together. He quickly does the same thing
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