Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
But just like always, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and soon, his hand was in my shirt, my palm rubbing his bulge between us. I desperately needed a distraction, because thinking about what had happened with Tucker was putting me at risk of doing something very, very stupid.
“Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t wait to bend you over the couch and fill your two holes with my dick and my fingers.” Rhy hoisted me up to wrap my legs around his waist, walking us forward until my back was pressed against the wall.
“Please,” I moaned into his mouth. “Fuck me, Rhyland.”
We heard a noisy and deliberate clearing of a throat over my left shoulder and both turned to see my ex staring at us, his cheeks stinging with fury. In the eyes I’d lost myself in countless times, I now found nothing but wickedness and malice. His nostrils flared, and his mouth barely moved as he spoke.
“Please don’t tell me you guys are fucking serious about this hookup.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Rhyland put me down carefully. It was in this moment everything clicked for me.
That time Tucker hurt me wasn’t accidental. He’d wanted to leave a mark. He’d wanted me scared and small and frightened. Tucker wasn’t a good guy, and there was no redemption arc for him. Whatever had made him warm to the idea of reconnecting with our daughter had nothing to do with altruism; she was just a pawn in his very twisted chess game.
“What we are and aren’t is none of your business,” I said coldly, walking over to him. He was wearing clothes of Rhyland’s I didn’t recognize. Pink Bermuda shorts and a long-sleeve yellow button-down with a llama print on it. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and I had no doubt Rhyland had put effort and care into ensuring the outfit was as disastrous as possible. “You really upset my daughter today.”
“Our daughter,” Tucker corrected.
“No,” I said calmly. “Mine. Being a sperm donor does not make you a dad. You are no father, Tucker. And if you want visitation rights, then I suggest you retain a lawyer, because I’m going to fight you on it every step of the way.”
“You can’t be serious.” He raised his voice, not paying heed to the fact that our child was asleep in the next room. “This is an insane overreaction. You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I am. Now get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the police and tell them about the bruise you left on my arm and the way you slammed our daughter’s head against the wall.”
Rhyland’s face swiveled my way, his expression astonished. “What did you just say?”
“When Gravity puked on him, he ‘reflexively’ pushed her. She bumped against the wall,” I explained.
“You’re making it sound so much worse than it really was,” Tucker exploded.
“I’m saying it exactly as it is.”
“Tucker.” Rhyland turned to him, eyes ablaze, a war raging inside them.
Dread trickled down the back of my neck. He looked like he was about to murder Tucker. Not in a figure-of-speech kind of way. In a what-the-hell-do-we-do-with-the-body kind of way.
“You’d better get out right this minute, before I rip out your intestines and wrap them around your neck until I cut off your oxygen supply,” Rhyland said slowly, methodically, calmly, which made everything so much worse somehow.
“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” Tucker walked backward, face red with shame.
“You’re never coming back,” Rhyland said, not asked. “I mean it, Tucker. I’m not responsible for my actions if I see you on the same street as Dylan and Gravity again.”
Tucker looked between us, shocked and annoyed. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue, but then he took another look at Rhy, thought better of it, and stomped out of my apartment.
The first thing I did was lock the door and press my back against it, heaving.
He hurt my child.
He.
Hurt.
My.
Child.
The second thing I did was break down in tears, sliding off the door and falling apart.
And the third thing?
I was put back together by Rhyland Coltridge.
DYLAN
Ping.
Ping.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
The annoying sound tapped its way into my skull like a beak in impressively quick succession. Sunrays filtered through the shutters, warming up my skin. Birds chirped outside my window.
I stretched in my bed, last night’s events slowly trickling their way back into my consciousness. Tucker hurt Gravity. I’d cried close to all night in Rhyland’s arms. Then, when I finally managed to get my shit together, he asked if he could stay over, and I said no.
Why did I say no?
Because you are falling in love with him, and sooner or later, he is going to break your heart. No part of him wants a relationship. He’s made that very clear. And the last thing a newly minted billionaire who looks like a Greek god needs is a single mom, a toddler child who’s not his, and the baggage you come with.