Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Lynx laughs when Emerson’s anger boils over. She tosses a lemon drop martini into the face of the blonde—who was so unmemorable that I can’t recall her name—before reminding her of the sanctity of marriage.
“Marriage is a sacred and inviolable union. It is not something you interfere with to get your rocks off.”
Lynx’s laughter stuffs into the back of his throat when Emerson climbs over the sticky bar in preparation to retaliate to the blonde’s snickered, “Remind me of that after I’ve sucked your husband’s dick… again,” comment with her fists.
Since I’m closer than the bouncer paid to handle these types of situations, and always on duty to protect Emerson, I hook my arm around Emerson’s waist and drag her away from the suddenly fretful blonde.
Emerson thrashes against me like crazy as I walk her toward my office, her fight coming out with a heap of angry words. “Let me go, Mikhail. Let me fucking go! I’m not going to hurt her. Death isn’t painful. To some, it is the only time they’ll truly be at peace.”
The lighting above our heads sends rainbow hues across the glossy surface of the bar from the diamonds in her wedding band. That’s how hard she fights to get out of my hold.
When her endeavor is unsuccessful, she returns to yelling. “I don’t give a shit what you did to him when he wasn’t mine! But when Emerson Morozov claims it, you don’t have permission to look, much less touch!”
She kicks out her legs and claws at my arms until we’re in the safety of my office, and even then, it is still an effort to keep her contained. She’s a wildfire, furious enough to burn through everything in sight—including my heartbreak.
The disrespect for monogamy and the continued attempts at seduction after being told someone is taken always infuriate her. It’s a fight she took up within days of us meeting, and one I grew to love as much as I did her.
With my thighs, cock, and nuts nursing injuries, I free Emerson from my hold in the middle of my office before standing guard at the door.
Either aware she won’t get past me, or not wanting to, Emerson paces the short length of my office while rambling under her breath. “Did you see the way her friends looked at you? We won’t need to wet the mop tonight to scrub the floors clean. Their drool will soak it through.”
Her jealous expression shifts to miffed when my lips furl at one side, and then she shoots daggers at me.
“Why are you laughing? Did you see their nails? They would have shredded you to pieces. And the bitch leading the ‘let’s seduce Mikhail train’ had fangs instead of cat’s eye teeth. Even if her friends reneged, you weren’t getting out of her clutch in one piece.”
When my smirk shifts into a full smile, she whacks me in the stomach before she endeavors to sidestep me.
I say endeavors because I beat her to my office door and slap it shut before she can race through it. Then I crowd her against the gleaming black wood.
I say nothing for several long minutes. I simply relish how fast my prayers were answered this time around, and how her jealous outburst is guiding me through the noise deafening me.
While I peer at my favorite shade of green, the fog of a long night of drinking lifts. I recall the pain and betrayal in Emerson’s eyes when I lied about wanting to erase our past, and how she showed up for me last night, as she has again today. But instead of being grateful that she’s matured enough to enter the battlefield, I shattered our memories with cruel, vindictive words.
My chest expands as I draw in a sharp breath. It isn’t solely the cruelty of my words weighing heavily on my shoulders, but the realization that I’m capable of inflicting such pain on the woman who brought me back to life.
I should have never pretended I wanted to wipe the slate clean or that our past meant nothing. It means everything to me. Every moment, laugh, and corny jukebox dance are what have kept me breathing for the past ten years.
Yes, Emerson hurt me, but I hurt her too.
I didn’t fight for her—for us. I let ten years slip by without a word being spoken between us. I tried. Believe me, I did. But after numerous failures, I started to wonder if fate was trying to tell me something, and I gave up.
I’ve never felt more stupid.
This is us. The fights. The passion. The love that can weather any storm.
This. Is. Us.
I draw in closer to Emerson, wishing I could take back what I said, but aware the damage has already been done. Scars are visible on both our hearts, and they will remain, but they’re not solely signs of a vicious battle.