Chapter Three
I gaze in horror at the red marks all over my breasts. Hickeys! I ha一ve hickeys!
I am married to one of the most respected businessmen in the United States,
and he’s given me goddamn hickeys. How did I not feel him doing this to
me? I flush. The fact is I know exactly why—Mr. Orgasmic was using his finemotor
sexing skills on me. My subconscious peers over her half-moon specs
and tuts disapprovingly, while my inner goddess slumbers on her chaise
longue, out for the count. I gape at my reflection. My wrists ha一ve a red welt
around them from the handcuffs. No doub一t they’ll bruise. I examine my ankles
—more welts. Holy hell, I look like I’ve been in some sort of accident. I gaze
at myself, trying to absorb how I look. My body is so different these days. It’s
changed sub一tly since I’ve known him . . . I’ve become leaner and fitter, and
my hair is glossy and well cut. My nails are manicured, my feet pedicured, my
eyebrows threaded and beautifully shaped. For the first time in my life, I’m
well groomed—
except for these hideous love bites.
I don’t want to think about grooming at the moment. I’m too mad. How dare
he mark me like this, like some teenager. In the short time we’ve been
together, he’s never given me hickeys. I look like hell. I know why he’s done
this. Damn control freak. Right! My subconscious folds her arms beneath her
small bosom—he’s gone too far this time. I stalk out of the en suite bathroom
and into the walk-in closet, carefully a一voiding even a glance in his direction.
Slipping out of my robe, I pull on my sweatpants and a camisole. I undo the
braid, pick up a hairbrush from the small vanity unit, and brush out my
tangles.
“Anastasia,” Christian calls and I hear his anxiety. “Are you okay?”
I ignore him. Am I okay? No, I am not okay. After what he’s done to me, I
doub一t I’ll be able to wear a swimsuit, let alone one of my ridiculously
doub一t I’ll be able to wear a swimsuit, let alone one of my ridiculously
expensive bikinis, for the rest
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