Chapter 99
99 –Her Hands In My Pants
Graham:
I don’t know if there’s a correct way to explain it, but seeing her with Sawyer, her husband, made me feel like my life had ended.
Suddenly, all my fears had come to life, and I felt like a fool.
All this time, I convinced myself she was lying about having a husband, that she was only using him as an excuse to hide from us, to keep her distance, to prove that we had lost her.
I thought she just wanted to show she had a home to go back to.
But now, I realized she wasn’t the same Madeline I once knew.
I had lost the chance to be her friend, to be her everything.
My father kept stealing glances at me, giving me that look that said, ‘I told you so. You should have listened to me.
After she signed the papers, her husband held her close, and the two of them walked back home together.
I had to return to the guest house.
There were several hallways there, one set on the second floor, where I stayed with my father and Kaylee.
As soon as I stepped into the corridor, my father caught up with me from behind.
“She’s got a handsome man and he’s rich too,” my father commented.
I clenched my fists inside my pockets, hiding my real emotions. I knew he’d use them against me, twist them just to get under my skin.
“I’m happy for her,” I said quietly.
“Are you though? You should have listened to me p>
There it was. I knew he’d say that.
“Well, listen to you and do what? Lie about sleeping with her? I told you, we were never intimate,” I reminded him.
“You walking to her suite with me made me think otherwise. Or did you change your decision because you realized that if you demanded a DNA test, she’d rebel?” my father pressed, trying to pry into my thoughts.
“The truth was, we were never intimate. The children were indeed Sawyer’s.” Saying that, even just in my head, took every ounce of strength I had.
Calling my baby Sawyer’s daughter was torture, but I had to do it if I didn’t want Madeline to see me as her enemy.
“Well, since you insist, I have no reason to force you,” my father said with a mocking pat on my back before heading into his room.
Now alone, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom. My hand rested on the doorknob as I took deep breaths.
I didn’t want to go inside. I thought about heading to the terrace instead, but before I could move, the door opened and Kaylee stepped out.
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90 Her Hands in My Fants
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“Come inside,” she ordered, pointing toward the room.
I rolled my eyes. If I refused, she’d make such a scene, mocking me in front of my friends, who were also staying in the same guest house.
Elgin had the first floor, I was on the second, and Baxter was on the third, all alone.
I walked in, and Kaylee slammed the door behind me.
“Have you mourned yet? Have you mourned enough yet?” she questioned from behind me while I rubbed my forehead with one hand.
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m pretty sure you heard that I couldn’t ask for a DNA test because I was never intimate with her in the first place,” I said quickly, thinking she might already know why my father had taken me to her suite.
But the way she grunted made it clear she didn’t know.
I turned around and froze. She was standing there in the tiniest, sexiest lingerie, clearly ready for a session before I gave her the news.
“What?” she asked, snatching the robe she’d just taken off and slipping it back on.
“Your father took you there to demand a DNA test?” she pressed, reaching for my arm.
Every time she wanted answers, she got physical and I hated that.
Because if, Goddess forbid, one day my reflexes kicked in and I shoved her away, she’d get hurt, and no one would care how many times she’d hit me first.
Me defending myself once would make me look like a woman beater.
So every time she turned combative, I either tied my hands behind my back or shoved them deep in my pockets, refusing to take them out.
Even now, as she gripped my wrist, demanding answers, her nails dug deeper into my skin.
“That was my father’s way to just mess with her. I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered, trying to cover for him.
But then I remembered, he would never do the same for me.
He was the reason I couldn’t be with Madeline in the first place, so why should I protect his image?
“No, wait. I thought your father wanted to get rid of her,” she said, holding my arm again.
As I tried to walk away, her nails pierced my skin, leaving thin scratches.
“Talk to him. I don’t know anything,” I said flatly, freeing myself and heading toward the bathroom.
But before I could get far, she rushed at me and wrapped her arms tightly around my waist, pressing her hands over my stomach.
She clasped her fingers together so tightly that prying them apart would have taken effort.
“Kaylee, I’m really tired tonight,” I told her, my voice more like a plea than a refusal.
“But I’ve been waiting for you. It’s been days since we’ve done it,” she whispered, still holding me.
“Her husband is here. If you’re worried about your friend, don’t be. She’s well taken care of tonight, I’m sure p>
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99–Her Hands in My Pants
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she added, pretending not to accuse, yet slipping in the reminder that Madeline and Sawyer were probably in each other’s arms right now.
The thought killed what little desire I had left.
“We need to fix our relationship, Graham. I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” she murmured, her hands sliding over my chest and stomach before drifting lower.
“I really love you. And I know sometimes I act on impulse, but trust me, I really, really care about you. Nobody will ever love you the way I do p>
By the time she finished, her hands were already inside my pants, and I felt my control slipping.
Maybe she was right. Madeline was happily married now.
Maybe it was time I tried to work on my own marriage, instead of hurting Madeline by reminding her of something she’d clearly moved on from. 1
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.