บททั้งหมดของ Falling For His Dirty Trap: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

Hillary Bentley’s head is between my legs, licking and sucking, his tongue moving so skillfully my legs are trembling and I am seeing stars.“Ben…” his name slips past my lips like a silent plea. For him to stop? No—for him to wreck me.He spreads his tongue flat against me, and it sends me into oblivion. My back arches, my eyes roll to the back of my head, and my feet curl, stiff and helpless. My body bucks against the sheets like I’m convulsing.“Fuck!” I yell, my eyes snapping open.I take a few deep, ragged breaths, looking around the dark bedroom. Oh, of course. It was a dream. It’s a dream because I made my own choices—ones that were undeniably bad for me. I throw the blanket off my body, irritated by the layers of sweat sticking to my skin from the heat of a wet dream. I rub my forehead and head straight for the bathroom, but I bump hard into the wall.Fuck. I still haven’t gotten used to this house.“It’s been four days here, babe. I presume you should have known by now that

Hillary My heart is overworking, it’s racing so fast that the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion.“No,” I whisper, shaking my head again. Jake doesn't argue, he simply pulls out his phone and plays a recording."I can't believe you asked for Hillary to work with Ben. How can you trust him around her?" I hear Charlie’s voice through the speaker, sharp and accusatory.Jake’s recorded voice chuckles. "I'm not worried one bit. Hillary will never be interested in Ben, let alone cheat on me with anyone. She's special and different—she's obsessed with me."Then, Ben’s voice follows. The sound of it makes my skin crawl. "Is that a challenge?"My hands are shaking violently.“It’s not a challenge, I’m certain,” Jake’s voice continues on the tape. “Do you want to make a bet? If you can put on your charm and wiggle your way under her skirt, I will apologize to you publicly for what you did all those years ago. But if you lose, I get a seat on your board and unlimited access to your mon

Hillary “Drive!” I snap the moment I throw myself into Georgia's car.She locks all the doors automatically and starts the engine without a second's hesitation. “He was in there? I was calling you because I saw his car parked down the street.”“Georgia? DRIVE!!!” I yell. She slams her foot against the pedal, and the car lurches forward. We speed past Jake, who is running toward us, his face a mask of panic. The tires screech as we tear away from the curb, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust.“Well, well, well. Maybe your instincts aren’t so dead after all,” Georgia says, pressing her lips together to suppress a triumphant smile.I don’t know who is happier right now—Jackie or Georgia.And then there's Ben. If he only knew that I’d rather be baked to death in an oven than marry that lying, cheating, manipulative prick.“Where are we going?” Georgia asks.“Home. I have barely unpacked, I’m just going to grab my suitcases,” I answer, staring blankly out the window.“And then do what?”“I’

Hillary I snatch the glass from his hand and empty the contents into my mouth.“What?” I snap, wiping my lip with the back of my hand.“What is going on? Tell me.” Bentley walks into the room and shuts the door firmly behind him.“I didn’t say you could come in.” I thrust the empty glass back at him.“This is my house.” He places his free hand on his hip, his eyes searching mine.“That’s right, so I’ll leave,” I say, spinning around and rushing toward my open suitcase.He catches my wrist, stopping me. “I want you to stay here, but you need to tell me what happened. Your wedding is in less than three days and you appear at my door with three large suitcases and a wedding dress—only a few days after your husband-to-be broke my jaw.”“Not entirely his fault,” I grit out, pulling my arm back. “You were convincing his wife-to-be to call off her wedding and ruin everyone’s life for a stupid bet.”“If you think that everything we shared was for a stupid bet, then you are—”“More foolish th

BentleyI move my sleeves to look down at my watch. Time is spent, and the silence of the morning is grating. I stand up and begin to pace the length of the living room again.“Honey, will you please stop the pacing?” my mother says, calmly sipping her coffee.“Why isn’t she here?” I frown, glancing toward the front door.She arches a brow at me. “Maybe because it’s six in the morning and you woke me up from a blissful sleep. She’s probably still sleeping, too.”“Of course you’re able to sleep. You aren't the one being forced into a marriage with a woman who hates your guts,” I murmur.“She doesn’t hate you, Ben. If she did, she wouldn’t have come to you when she needed help. And she agreed to the wedding; a woman who hates you wouldn't do that.”I disagree, but I remain quiet.“Your other son is halfway across the world—god knows where—with the mistress who destroyed his relationship days before his wedding. You still shouldn't be sleeping,” I say, resuming my pacing.“Because I’m a