Page 102 of Insta Bride
“Then, since you’re doing me the favor by meeting this potential client, how about I buy you something special to wear?”
“You want me to wear something that I’ve never tried on before, sight unseen?” At least he could still make me smile.
“Trust me.” Kye threw me that cheeky smile I wanted to kiss off his face. “If you hate it, wear yoga pants. I won’t complain.”
He laced his fingers with mine and pressed his lips to where they still sent tremors throughout my body. Tentatively I opened to him, swallowing his kiss. I stopped thinking and just gave into the feeling of being wanted and desired as his arms wrapped around me. Pulling my hips to his.
“Fuck babe,” he murmured, “I’ve missed you.” He kissed his way down my neck until I giggled and tried to squeeze him out, “I’ve missed this.” He ground against me, “Why the hell can’t you just ignore the trolls?”
“Are you saying you haven’t been with anyone else since—”
He kissed away the rest of my concern. “I can’t say it any plainer. The only woman I’ve had sex with since the island, is you. The only woman I had sex with on the island, was you.”
He threw his head back, pulling my hips until his erection almost tore through my sensible work skirt, “The only woman I want to have sex with, is you.”
“But, all those photos—”
“The photos are fucking bullshit. I keep telling you, it’s Kenzie and Georgia playing their games. I swear, they’re upping the ante and I can prove it.”
“How.” I really wanted to know. If he could prove that he wasn’t cheating, then I’d only have to worry about if he’d ever love me.
“What does it matter? If you don’t trust my word, what the fuck does it matter?”
Kye didn’t push me away—he didn’t have to. I’d recoiled and within seconds, instead of sweeping me off to bed, the door of his apartment slammed behind him.
His apartment.
At some point, I’d need to kick out my tenants. At some point, I’d need to decide which of my friends I’d ask to crash on their lounge or spare bedroom, until I got my place back.
Then there was the furniture we’d bought together. Making his place our home.
Kye had trashed most of his furniture in the first week we’d moved from my place to his.
“What’s wrong with your stuff?” I’d asked.
“I don’t want to sleep with you in a bed that’s had other women in it. We deserve a fresh start.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the kitchen table?”
He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged as if I’d caught his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry.”
“The lounge, I understand, but the patio furniture?”
“To be fair, at some point we’re going to have to remodel the kitchen and replace the benchtop as well. The shower screens might be expensive to replace, but we can strip out and remodel the whole bathroom.”
We’d christened every piece of new furniture.
No. He could keep it all.
I couldn’t take Kye with me and no shoebox would fit all our memories. I’d leave with my clothes. Everything else, I’d leave for Kye. After all, I’d leave my heart for him.
Kye
Step 1.Bring in the client.
Softli was a huge-ass client. If I signed up Softli, I could name my price. To hell with the whole Instagram profile and the fake bullshit. Clients loved the profile, and as long as I toned down the party-boy rep and became more about people, my profile and value would keep growing exponentially.
All because of Elena.