Didn’t you? Didn’t you? ”
“Yes!” The word seemed to have escaped Andrew against his will, because his eyes widened, then he glanced down, uncomfortable. “It was sex, Sophie. Of course I enjoyed it. But like I said—”
“Good. Then you can go right on fucking her. At least that way, she won’t sue you.” I meant my words. I was sick of Andrew. I could no longer stand the sight of him.
I was about to turn, but he grabbed me by both my shoulders and forcefully pulled me to him. “I don’t want her. I know you won’t understand what I’m about to say, but having sex with her proved to me that you’re the only one I want. A person can get sex anywhere. But we make love, Sophie. There’s a difference. A huge one.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really.”
Anger fueling my actions, I took Andrew’s hand and placed it on my breast. “You still want me?”
“Of course.”
I squeezed his hand over my breast, but I didn’t do it lovingly. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, really. Something else in me had taken control.
“Do you still like touching me?” I asked.
“Of course.” Andrew’s breathing changed, got heavier.
Hastily, I yanked my skirt up with my free hand, then dragged Andrew’s hand to my pussy. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Holding his hand over my vagina, I asked, “Do you want to make love to me right now, Andrew?”
He groaned softly. He was getting turned-on. Good. I had the bastard right where I wanted him.
“I do.” His breathing was ragged now, ripe with lust. “Oh, Sophie…”
I let him kiss my neck. Let him slip his fingers into my panties and stroke me. In a strange way, I was turned-on, but nothing about what I felt was loving. It was all fueled by my rage. Part of me hated my husband for what he’d done to me. And yet, another part of me wanted him to strip me naked and fuck me to prove not only that he still loved me, but that he still wanted me sexually.
That he found me as desirable as he’d found Isabel.
But knowing he’d touched another woman this intimately…that he’d sucked her pussy. There was no way I could go through with fucking him, not right now. Maybe not ever. I was about to bring him back down to earth, let him know that my desire for him hadn’t been genuine.
I kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “Is this how you touched Isabel?”
Andrew’s fingers stopped cold.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice extra syrupy.
The vein in his jaw flinched as he took a step backward and I grinned, satisfied with his discomfort. But I wasn’t really satisfied, not in my soul.
“How many times did you screw her?” I asked. “One? Two?” I searched his eyes for an answer. “Twenty? Fifty?”
Andrew looked away.
As the seconds of silence ticked by, my stomach dropped.
“Oh, my God. She wasn’t just some fling. Your relationship was serious.” I gripped my stomach. Andrew had said that Isabel had wanted him to leave me for her, but I’d let myself believe that the woman had been delusional, that her feelings for Andrew had been one-sided. But maybe he’d had feelings for her, too, and I was the one deluding myself, wanting to believe that Andrew had only been physically attracted to someone else. What if his connection to Isabel was greater than that?
“No wonder she wants to sue you. Were you going to leave me for her?”
“No! Of course not.”
My head grew light. I turned away from my bastard of a husband, wondering if I would actually throw up. I drew in several deep breaths, tried to keep myself under control.
“Is she here now? Your Isabel? I’ve never met her, so she must be new. Where does she work—in guest services?” When Andrew didn’t respond, I moved to the door. “I guess I’ll just have to find out.”
Andrew grabbed me, forcefully this time. “Do not go out there and look for Isabel.”
“Why not? Because you want to protect her? Protect
“Yes!” The word seemed to have escaped Andrew against his will, because his eyes widened, then he glanced down, uncomfortable. “It was sex, Sophie. Of course I enjoyed it. But like I said—”
“Good. Then you can go right on fucking her. At least that way, she won’t sue you.” I meant my words. I was sick of Andrew. I could no longer stand the sight of him.
I was about to turn, but he grabbed me by both my shoulders and forcefully pulled me to him. “I don’t want her. I know you won’t understand what I’m about to say, but having sex with her proved to me that you’re the only one I want. A person can get sex anywhere. But we make love, Sophie. There’s a difference. A huge one.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really.”
Anger fueling my actions, I took Andrew’s hand and placed it on my breast. “You still want me?”
“Of course.”
I squeezed his hand over my breast, but I didn’t do it lovingly. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, really. Something else in me had taken control.
“Do you still like touching me?” I asked.
“Of course.” Andrew’s breathing changed, got heavier.
Hastily, I yanked my skirt up with my free hand, then dragged Andrew’s hand to my pussy. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Holding his hand over my vagina, I asked, “Do you want to make love to me right now, Andrew?”
He groaned softly. He was getting turned-on. Good. I had the bastard right where I wanted him.
“I do.” His breathing was ragged now, ripe with lust. “Oh, Sophie…”
I let him kiss my neck. Let him slip his fingers into my panties and stroke me. In a strange way, I was turned-on, but nothing about what I felt was loving. It was all fueled by my rage. Part of me hated my husband for what he’d done to me. And yet, another part of me wanted him to strip me naked and fuck me to prove not only that he still loved me, but that he still wanted me sexually.
That he found me as desirable as he’d found Isabel.
But knowing he’d touched another woman this intimately…that he’d sucked her pussy. There was no way I could go through with fucking him, not right now. Maybe not ever. I was about to bring him back down to earth, let him know that my desire for him hadn’t been genuine.
I kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “Is this how you touched Isabel?”
Andrew’s fingers stopped cold.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice extra syrupy.
The vein in his jaw flinched as he took a step backward and I grinned, satisfied with his discomfort. But I wasn’t really satisfied, not in my soul.
“How many times did you screw her?” I asked. “One? Two?” I searched his eyes for an answer. “Twenty? Fifty?”
Andrew looked away.
As the seconds of silence ticked by, my stomach dropped.
“Oh, my God. She wasn’t just some fling. Your relationship was serious.” I gripped my stomach. Andrew had said that Isabel had wanted him to leave me for her, but I’d let myself believe that the woman had been delusional, that her feelings for Andrew had been one-sided. But maybe he’d had feelings for her, too, and I was the one deluding myself, wanting to believe that Andrew had only been physically attracted to someone else. What if his connection to Isabel was greater than that?
“No wonder she wants to sue you. Were you going to leave me for her?”
“No! Of course not.”
My head grew light. I turned away from my bastard of a husband, wondering if I would actually throw up. I drew in several deep breaths, tried to keep myself under control.
“Is she here now? Your Isabel? I’ve never met her, so she must be new. Where does she work—in guest services?” When Andrew didn’t respond, I moved to the door. “I guess I’ll just have to find out.”
Andrew grabbed me, forcefully this time. “Do not go out there and look for Isabel.”
“Why not? Because you want to protect her? Protect
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