I realize now he took advantage of a lonely, inexperienced girl. I was basically a child starved for affection, and somehow, he knew it. Sensed it.
And gave me everything I thought I wanted.
He controlled me and I didn’t protest—I was used to it. Turned me into his dirty little secret and I never minded. There was something thrilling about sneaking around, reaching for each other in dark places, where no one would see. He’d slap my hand away if he thought I was getting too close in public, and that hurt.
He’d flirt with other women in class and that hurt too.
Yet he always had an explanation. A reason. I accepted those reasons, gullible and completely infatuated.
At one point, I thought it was love.
It all came crashing down that one afternoon in class. When he was in the middle of the lecture and a beautiful woman burst into the room, a giant smile on her face. Her dark hair flowed in flawless waves down her back and her dark eyes burned bright when they landed on him.
Her accent matched his. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips, making almost every single female in his classroom gasp with horror.
Including me.
She was his girlfriend. His fiancée. The woman he was going to marry. Meaning I was nothing.
Just a casual affair.
I never spoke to him again. I went back to my flat and cried into my pillow. I didn’t go to class for a week, ignoring the emails from my instructors and the calls and texts from my newly made friends. One of my instructors eventually called my father, concerned for my welfare since I was such a good student.
My father demanded I come home and so I did. A shell of myself.
Completely devastated.
I eventually healed, and just when Seamus felt like a distant memory and I’d have no need to wonder about him ever again, he had to show his face.
And almost ruin everything.
“Hey.” Perry knocks on the door three times, startling me. “You almost ready?”
We’re going out to dinner, my husband and I.
“Almost,” I call, reaching for the brush on the counter and running it through my damp hair. “Give me a few minutes.”
He growls with frustration and walks away.
I glare at the door as if he can see my annoyance, hating the unease that slips over me. Sometimes it feels like he wants me and hates me, all at once, and I don’t understand him.
At all.
After slicking my hair into a low ponytail, I contemplate putting on makeup but decide against it, only applying a pale pink lip balm before I rub my lips together and exit the bathroom. I slip on a pair of gold sandals and make my way out to the living room, where I find Perry clutching a drink in his hand as he stands at the window, staring out at the lit pool.
“I’m ready,” I announce.
He turns, his hot gaze raking over me and I feel my nipples harden beneath my dress.
I wonder if he can tell. I wonder if he knows how much he affects me with just a look. A touch. I think of what he did to me earlier on that lounger and my cheeks burn.
Not with shame. With desire. I want him to do it again. I want to do so much more with my husband. Everything we possibly can.
“Nice dress,” he says, not moving from his spot.
“Thank you.” It’s a pale blue and dotted with tiny red flowers. Soft and feminine with a flowing short skirt. If I twirl around in a circle, he might see that I’m not wearing any panties.
He looks nice too, clad in a pair of khakis and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and showing off his forearms. That hint of a tattoo.