Chapter 3

Anna’s POV

The mechanical rustling of the curtains startled me, and I was already jumping out of bed. A horrible lesson, as the space was too small to contain me—definitely not a bed—and if not for quick reflexes, I would have become fused with the ground.

I blinked, struggling to open my eyes, and when I did, I stared with unfocused eyes until everything began to fall into place bit by bit.

I was in the living room, had fallen asleep on the sofa, wearing the clothes I had worn earlier, and right now my skin crawled at the thoughts of sleeping with outside clothes.

Refusing to look at the wall clock, I could already guess the time because from the programmed opening of the curtain, it should be 6:45am and somehow it was the next morning, and my fiancé was still missing.

My finger drummed on my thighs, my breathing getting erratic as I took in the living room. The ceiling was an elegant square with a Coltrane suspension lamp hanging on it, giving the room a soft touch, but it was the suffocating white color that spilled into every room that irked me.

I had no idea why Davy was eager to bring the hospital wherever he was. But it was easy to ignore it when I stared at the artwork that hung above the fireplace.

But I hadn’t gone so far in my admiration when the rev of a car interrupted me and the familiar burn of anger began to fill me again.

I sat, waiting until I heard his footsteps and the door creaked open as he entered.

“You are late.” I announced, refusing to look at him, staring instead at the work I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into because one glimpse and I would be weak in the knees and unable to carry the anger through.

“I am sorry, Red,” Davy sighed, dropping his bag on the sofa. I directed my gaze to the horrible bag he had had since med school; the color was practically fading, and the seam was worn out, but he had sworn it still had more life in it.

However, right now, my anger was kindled on him and, by extension, the bag, and I shot a laser beam at it, wishing it would burn to ashes. “There was an emergency in the hospital.” He whispered, his tone pleading, “You know I would have wanted to, but I was swarmed.”

“Fuck the emergency!” Was what I would have said, but I don’t curse. No prim or proper lady would say that out loud. I mean, it was allowed in my mind but not outside. So I tried again “What was so important that made you miss it? I waited for hours!” I yelled, now letting my eyes meet his.

And at least he had the courtesy to feel remorse. With dilated eyes either from tiredness or plea—I chose to take the latter—it was so easy to lose focus, and for that I was supposed to be mad at myself.

But would you blame me?

At 29, Davy was in his prime. The thick hair on his head was now in an undercut, a style I had convinced him to get, and we later on destroyed the bed after he came back from the salon.

He was easy on the eyes, with light blue eyes that flowed with so much love, and then the damn glasses. It was easy to fall in love with him, and if his features were not sufficient, his character made up for it.

And I, as with the other 99 ladies, had been charmed.

In two strides, he reached me, his arms wrapping around the small of my waist, and he pulled me to himself.

Helpless to do anything, I let myself be pulled, my body tingling with happiness as I felt him on me.

“I. Am. Sorry. Red.” He apologized, punctuating every sentence with kisses, and I was unable to resist it. I broke into a giggling fit, now struggling to be free from him.

“Fine.” I sighed, “Now kiss me properly.” I puckered my lips, and he had no hesitation when he joined our lips together, kissing me the way I wanted it.

The kiss started innocent, but it was quick to cross that point when Davy shoved his tongue in my mouth. Greedy hands grabbed my breasts, squeezing them, and he was already undoing the zip.

“N-no, not here.” I said between moans as he lowered me to the sofa. “The housekeepahhhh!” The words were muddled into a moan as his mouth found my nipples, devouring the sensitive nub, and I was gone.

All thoughts of the housekeeper walking in on us were gone, replaced with a fiery need to be with my fiancé in any way possible, and he must have read my mind because he took only a minute to lower his pants and underwear, and my dress was pushed up, and he took me just the way I needed him.

It was fast and urgent, his cock slamming into me. It was his own cruel way of apologizing, and I took it. I had no choice but to do so, not when the pleasure was fast building inside me.

I wrapped my legs tighter around him, clenching my inner muscles on him, his mouth moving hungrily against mine, and I threw my head as I moaned.

Davy was hitting my sensitive spot so good, the tip of his cock stabbing it until it finally exploded, and I did too, screaming out his name, oblivious of him also exploding.

I came down from the high, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath, and Davy maneuvered us so he was lying on the sofa and I was resting on him.

My head came naturally to his chest, the firm beat of his heart intriguing me, and I raised my head to look at him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“You have to personalize it,” I grumbled, and I felt lips on my forehead.

“I love you, Anna Walton.”

I rolled my eyes, yet I couldn’t help the smile that was forming. “It is not yet official. And that is why we have to go for dress shopping today.”

Davy stiffened under me, and the same tight feeling crept into my chest, the one I had woken up with, but I shook my head, refusing to accept it.

“No.”