Wife Unwanted (Corrupt Vows #2)

Chapter 30

Carey

I DON’T KNOW why I thought her sleeping in the same bed as I would be fine. It was in the middle of the night while everyone was lost in the dreamworld including her, and yet, here I was unable to sleep. Her pretty little snores making me hard. But let’s face it, I’ve been hard ever since she came onto that terrace in that wispy blue dress with gaps on the side to tease what’s underneath. I couldn’t resist. I had to touch her just so I could know what her skin felt like. Like a possessive man, I wanted to claim her as mine in front of another man, regardless of how irrational that was.

That was the problem with Thalia. As much as I hated her, my body certainly did not. Every now and then, my resolve would falter and the need to have her again would become uncontrollable. There was one place I ran away to when that happens. This place. My sanctuary. Now she was here. Sleeping in my bed. One rollover and she’s in my arms. I could wake her up. Kiss her until her eyes fluttered open and then lower that cotton pajama top and claim her breast. Would she writhe and moan like she used to? My hand slid to my cock and stroked as I imagined her mouth on it. Kissing and worshiping it like she used to. Deep throating it. Driving me insane as she gagged on it. My hand worked faster as I saw her in my mind’s eye getting on top of me, lowering herself on my length and riding me while I played with her breasts. My breath hitched as I felt an orgasm coming. I squeezed the bottom my cock, winced and rushed to the bathroom. Flipping the toilet seat down and taking my cock out of my pants, my hand frantically did what was a piss-poor job of what I truly wanted. Her mouth. Her pussy. Her.

Shame came with the climax. She was bad, I reminded myself. She used you. Betrayed you. I have to clamp down whatever feelings I still have for her during this weekend and the upcoming fortnight.

She was still sound asleep when I came back to bed. I got in and could finally close my eyes, but she still found me in my dreams.

I woke up to an empty bed the next morning. Thalia liked running and, sure enough, when I went to the window and flicked open the curtains, she was on the beach jogging along the coastline. It was still seven am and just as well she was out there and not tormenting me here. I took a shower, got dressed, and by the time I descended downstairs, Thalia was making her way back into the house. We passed each other in the hallway. She was sweaty and her hair was messy. Some of it had gotten loose and strayed out of her ponytail. She looked wild and untamed. The urge to carry her back to the bedroom and strip her out of that outfit and fuck her raw was hard to shut down. So much for control and hardened resolve.

I didn’t see her again until she joined me for breakfast. By then I had regained some control and soon after the Van de Morts came in. They expressed an interest in walking to the shops, so as soon as we were done eating, we all headed out. Mae and were happy walking with each other and taking in the scenery, leaving Thalia and I together.

“Aren’t you tired?” I asked Thalia when the Bardwells stopped again to take a picture. Thalia was facing away from me and to the Bardwells who were behind us as she shook her head. “Why would I be?” she said without looking at me.

“You jogged in the morning.”

“Like I always do. I don’t mind some extra exercise.”

There’s some extra exercise you could do, I thought. I almost voiced the wayward thought until I caught myself. Thalia looked even more breathtaking than yesterday. She wasn’t wearing anything striking, but the white shorts she had on accentuated her shapely legs and the yellow tank top clung to her chest it looked it was tailor made. She’s lost some weight, I realized. Was it deliberate or because of something else? She whipped her head in my direction and I felt like I was caught staring. Scrambling for anything to say, I uttered, “You look great.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you think of my outfit. I like it like that.”

I frowned. “I wasn’t being sarcastic.” And I wasn’t talking about her darned outfit.

“Sure. Whatever.” She turned away from me. After a moment, she added, “If you think my outfit is inappropriate for a walk to the town, then deal with it.”

I was about to ask her why she was jumping to conclusions until I remembered the last time we were here. I had held a garden party for the law firm partners and she had had worn what could best be described as a white cocktail dress. Something you wore at the club and not at a garden party while hosting a party for your husband’s work colleagues. She looked hot in that tight little dress. Every man was eye fucking her. I got irrationally jealous. And instead of being a good husband and telling her in private to change into something more appropriate, I lashed out. Not scream or shout, but much worse. I humiliated her. “You look great. But when I said you’d be the hostess, I hope you didn’t think I meant club hostess. I want you to host the party, not service the party.” The double entendre was not lost on anyone who heard. Everyone in the vicinity had laughed, and she was brave enough to make it seem like she wasn’t hurt by the comment.

“Your outfit’s great, I mean your body. You look…toned.”

Thalia titled her head to the side, slightly bemused. She looked like she was about to say something, but the Bardwells started walking again and Thalia marched a few paces in front of me. We walked like that until we reached the town. Because of Mae and Arther’s incredibly slow pace, it was almost midday when we arrived to our destination. The Bardwells wanted to buy some trinkets, so I showed them the tourist shops they could visit. They hinted they wanted to see the town without us, so I let them be, leaving Thalia and I to roam around together

“Was there anything you wanted to get?”

She shook her head.

We were standing between a cafe and an ice cream parlor. “Not even coffee?”

She shook her head.

“Or ice cream?”

Her gaze went to the fifties style shop and nodded. We headed in and I took our orders while she looked for a place to sit. She frowned when I came back with one chocolate mint caramel for me and a bubblegum rainbow sprinkle for her. She took the ice cream and said, “You know my flavor?”

“I wasn’t sure if it still was.” I took my seat, feeling a little more proud than I should for getting it right.

“How did you know?”

"Remember when the car broke down on our way back home and we had to wait at that Dairy Queen while your dad fixed the car? You ordered that."

Thalia choked on her ice cream, but she quickly recovered. “You remember that?”

“Surprised that I don’t have the memory of a goldfish?”

“Surprised that you’d care to remember at all.”

That’s the funny thing about her, though. My braid had a knack of collecting Thalia related information and storing them in a special box. It’s not just her favorite ice cream. I know which of the Real Housewives franchises is her favorite, even though I have rarely seen her watch it. I also know that she likes to read the last page of a novel, the middle page and the first page, before purchasing it. I know that she hates being in a crowded elevator, even though she’s never said it out loud. Just a few things from the esoteric knowledge bank of Thalia Hawthorne.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” I said a little casually than was true to how I actually felt. “It’s only natural I retain some information about you.”

She nodded as though this answer satisfied her. We slurped on our ice cream in silence and at some point, she took out her phone, placed it on the table, and started browsing. I was fine just looking at her. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Her curls fell to her forehead and my hand itched to brush them away. I was seconds away to leaning over the table and do just that when she looked up from her phone smiling. That feeling of being caught came again. I blurted the first thing that came to mind, “You seem oddly happy.”

“F.H. Kilpatrick’s novel just came out! Well, it came out a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t seen the alert. Of course, you wouldn’t know or care, but it’s really great news!”

I knew. Another factoid from the Thalia knowledge bank was that she read a lot of historical fiction, and F.H. Kilpatrick, one of her favorite authors, hadn’t released a book in a long while.

“We can go to the local bookstore and check if they have it.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can we!”

I was surprised how full the bookstore was when we entered. There was a small queue at the counter and I noticed everyone had one specific book in hand. An F.H. Kilpatrick. “I had no idea she was this famous,” I muttered more to myself, but Thalia heard me. “Of course you wouldn’t,” she said, making a beeline towards a table marked 'new releases.' “The last time you read a book that had nothing to do with law was in college.” I was about to rebut the statement until I realized she was right.

I followed her towards the new releases table as she was moving a bit faster than I thought she would until I saw why. There were four other people also making for the table and there were four books left. Thalia was a little slower, and she reached it just as the last copy was snatched by a middle-aged man.

“Oh, man.” Her shoulders slumped.

“Was that the last copy?” My unhelpful question surprisingly got an answer from a bookstore clerk standing beside the table. “That was the last of our stock, I am afraid,” the mousy teenage-looking girl said. “You might want to try Barnes and Noble.”

“Sold out there too,” an elderly woman who materialized behind us said.

Thalia’s face fell. Seeing her happiness shattered in a matter of seconds was a gut punch. I mean, if she’s happy, then she will not mess up the deal with the Bardwells. I looked around and saw a young woman who looked to be in her twenties walking past us with three books in her hand. Two had pastel covers, and the third had the familiar red and black cover of the F.H. Kilpatrick book. "Excuse me," I said to her. "How much are you willing to trade for that?"

The woman looked at me, dumbfounded. "I will pay you double the price of the book if you give it to me." She clutched the copy to her chest, surprised.

"Carey…" I heard Thalia say beside me.

"Triple?" I took out my wallet and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and a fifty. "Quadruple?" The girl stared at the money, then, as though coming out of a trance, balanced her books that were about to slip out of her hold. "Is that real?"

"You can have the cashier check it for you if you doubt me."

I felt Thalia tug at the corner of my shirt. "Carey, I am sure there are other bookstores…"

The girl glanced at Thalia, then grabbed the cash and handed me the book. I gave the book to Thalia. "There you go."

"I shouldn't. What about her?" she gestured at the girl.

The girl shrugged. "It's more than a fair trade."

"See?" I handed Thalia the book again, and she reluctantly took it. "Thanks," she said to the young woman, but she was already on her way to the counter. Thalia brushed the cover, holding the copy as though it's a fragile egg. She darted her gaze around the store, and then back at me as though embarrassed. "You didn't have to."

"You wanted it, so there you go." Thalia smiled and I hated how my heart swelled just because her mouth turned upwards over something I did. Clearing my thought, I thrust my wallet back into my pocket. "Is there anything else you want?" She shook her head.