Lottie’s soft voice called to me. She still hadn’t changed out of her funeral attire. A long-sleeved cottony black number that covered her collarbones and went down below her knees. It kind of looked like something Snitch would wear.

I slammed Lottie against the wall, crashing my lips against hers. She gasped against my assault and grabbed me back. I ignored the thoughts in my head screaming it wasn’t right. It wasn’t Snitch. She had too much gloss on her lips.

Woodsy was dead. I wasn’t there for him. I’d been in fucking Asheville, with Lottie’s family, trying to fix what I’d broken on Labor Day. If I had just cut our trip short, I would have been able to say goodbye.

I thought I had more time.

I kissed her harder, trying to banish the thoughts.

Be a good husband.

Be a good man.

The harder I tried, the more I failed.

“What’s gotten into you?” Lottie gasped as I dove for her neck.

Snitch is leaving and it’s driving me insane.

Lottie palmed my cock, but her touch was anathema. Snitch is too in the forefront. Every little thing is compared to her. Her lips. Her kiss. Her tongue. The way she touched.

I took a step back and Lottie blinked at me.

I dragged my hands through my hair. “Take off your clothes.”

“Is it really happening?” Lottie asked, but she undid the pearly buttons at the front of her dress.

“Get on the bed.”

She stumbled backward onto my black sheets, watching my every movement. I climbed on top of her, and she tried to kiss me. I grabbed her hands, pinning them above her, going for her neck.

“Give me a baby,” she breathed against my lips.

Those four words froze me.

I climbed off, running a hand up and down the back of my neck. The quiet was stale and splintery.

“I don’t know how,” Lottie said after a moment, “but I know this is about her. It’s always about her.”

Our gazes collided.

“Are we being honest now, Lottie? Finally? Why did you tell Story I was getting a postnup drawn? Why did you tell her you gave me permission? Why are you fucking with her when you already won?”

She looked guilty for a half second; then she stood up. “I won?” She let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, rolling her eyes. “How am I the villain?” Her eyes were broken and pleading. “What is so wrong about what I did, Grayson? How is it so evil, especially compared to what you’ve done? What she’s done?” Her hands scraped at her chest as though her heart hurt. “I love you. You’re my husband, and she’s there, at every turn, trying to steal you away.”

“You’re Lottie…”

Pure, kind, sweet, gentle Lottie.

Every time I try to do right, I just fuck it up more. It’s like my marriage is a sandcastle crumbling in the wind.

“You never knew me!” She shoved me. “You’re just like everyone else. I love you. I’m willing to fight for you. I’ll play dirty. That only scares you because you don’t love me back.”

“Lottie, I—”

“Don’t! Don’t lie to me anymore. Be honest about it. You don’t love me. You won’t even try.” Her face twisted in agony. “Everything I do is wrong. Is bad for you. She could light the sky on fire and you’d thank her for keeping you warm. If I hung the moon, you’d yell at me for ruining the shadows.”

Lottie hiccupped and turned from me. She paused in the hallway, throwing her head over her shoulder.

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Crowne Point Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net