CHAPTER FOUR

NADINE

When I woke up the next morning, I was naked in an unfamiliar bed, next to Lysander. I almost flew out of the bed if it wasn't for his arm around my back, pinning me to him.

My jaw slacked!

No, no, no! I slept with a complete stranger! Well, technically, I knew his name, but he was still a stranger!

Memories of last night flooded my mind.

The drink. Flirting with him. The dance and the way it made me feel. And the "Yes!" I blurted out when he asked if I wanted to leave.

A groan slipped past my lips as I buried my face in my palm. He was the first man to have made me feel desired in years, and not simply tolerated. It was no surprise I'd said yes and let him whisk me away to the nearest hotel to have his wicked, delicious way with me.

"Ohh," A moan slipped past my lips as everything he'd done to me in the bed came rushing back.

The way he handled me last night was so different from Ares. He'd been very vocal with what he wanted to do to me, and making sure that was exactly what I wanted. That devious voice had brought me straight to orgasm multiple times just by whispering naughty things in my ear.

Fuck, just thinking about it was making me wet again.

Carefully placing my hand over his, I pried off his fingers one by one, slid my palm beneath his and removed it from my body. I kept my gaze fixed on his face the entire time, but he didn't even flinch. Luckily for me, he was completely knocked out.

Standing on all fours, I crawled backwards until my leg dangled at the bottom of the bed. Moving as fast as I could, I shrugged on my dress, grabbed my purse, phone and heels in both hands and dashed out of the hotel room.

I didn't stop until I stood inside the elevator and was headed to the first floor.

Slipping my feet into my heels, I adjusted the creases on my dress.

Using my blurry reflection in the elevator's metal keypad, I adjusted my hair and lipgloss.

The last thing I wanted was for anyone to take one look at me and immediately assume I got thoroughly laid last night.

I flagged down a cab outside the building to take me back home.

When I arrived, dawn had passed. My grip tightened around the door knob and I whispered a small prayer before I slipped in through the door. I expected Ares to be in the living room, a drink in one hand and glaring at me demanding to know where I spent the night.

But the living room was empty, so was our bedroom, and after taking a quick bath, I realized he wasn't home at all.

Then I remembered what he said about going to Susan and a pang of pain spread over my chest. Shoving it down, I went to the kitchen to distract myself, by cooking up breakfast for when he finally came home. But I ended up getting distracted as my thoughts trailed to Lysander.

My sexy-as-hell, dirty-mouthed but kind-hearted one night stand.

I should be horrified that I'd cheated on my husband, but I guess finding out he was also cheating didn't make it extremely alarming to me. Plus, it was one of the best nights I'd had in a long while.

That said a lot.

So I went about my day as usual, glancing at the clock as the hour went by without any sign of Ares.

By nightfall, I'd gotten so worried that I picked up my phone and sent him a text.

When he didn't reply, I called.

There was no answer.

Then the second day came and passed, and he still didn't come home. And just like that, two days became three, and three days became three weeks.

Ares didn't come for three full weeks. No calls, no texts from him.

Just complete silence.

I stayed alone in our home, staring at the walls, counting the seconds, doomscrolling online with nothing special to do. I didn't even have friends because my entire life had been centered around Ares and him alone.

With a sigh, I went back to my bedroom, plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Different thoughts flowed through my head.

Guilt over the one-night stand drifted in—turns out I needed a few more days after the euphoria of being banged like a cat in heat for the guilt to set in. I felt so bad for what I did to Ares, that I pushed out every thought of Lysander and forced myself not to think about him.

I picked up my phone and tried Ares a few more times. After hearing the same automated voice reply on repeat, I quickly realized that he'd blocked me.

So I didn't have to worry about him having a stroke or being mugged or run over by a truck.

The least he could have done was tell me he was okay. Why was I even bothered about a man who was clearly having fun cheating on me?

Besides the worry I felt, there was this speck of unwanted freedom I felt as well. As quiet as the house was, I still appreciated it. Because he wasn't here to yell degrading and humiliating words at me. Or remind me that I was barren.

I threw my arm over my head, staring off into thin air. It started slow at first…

Grey, hunter-like eyes staring at me.

Full kissable lips and a perfectly straight nose. Wavy, dark brown hair my fingers itched to sink in. A chiseled jaw with a trimmed beard that tickled when it brushed between my thighs.

Lysander.

I let out a soft sigh as the image completed at the back of my head.

A perfectly naked Lysander hovering over me. I tried to shove it out of my mind but it didn't work, not when he claimed my lips the same way his large hand grabbed my thick thighs with reverence.

Oh God!

My hand drifted between my legs, pussy wet, sending sudden shocks of pleasure through my body at the exact moment that Lysander would press his hard-on against my sensitive nub.

As his lips moved down my jaw to my chest, my other hand reciprocated the way his mouth wrapped around my nipple, tugging and rubbing it between my fingers.

"Lysander," My back arched, his name escaping my lips as a moan.

My vision blurred when his finger flicked my clit at the exact same time my finger did.

The memory of the things he did to me that night replayed in my head as my hands tried to recreate them, driving me to the heights of pleasure.

Before long, I was humping my finger and begging him to take me harder and faster. And he did—at least in my memory—hitting the spot deep inside of my pussy that made my mouth fall open in a silent throaty moan.

One last thrust and a long, ragged moan filled the air, my toes curling, my whole body stiffening as my orgasm shot through me.

When I opened my eyes, back to reality, I remembered that there was no Lysander here—it was just my fingers. Still, this imagined session with him was way better than a fuck session with Ares.

I lay back in bed, spent, but satisfied, wishing I could have more.

Days passed, and Ares didn't return.

On the twenty-second day of Ares' absence, I shot up from bed—half asleep and slightly disoriented—and raced for the bathroom while battling the heavy wave of nausea that hit me.

The world tilted beneath my feet as I fumbled with the bathroom door.

My stomach lurched with every panicked step and I'd just made it to the toilet when I began emptying everything inside into the clean toilet, with uncontrollable heaves that left me gasping for air.