Truths That Saints Believe (The Klutch Duet #2) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Klutch Duet Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
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I pursed my lips. “How about instead of keeping it from me, you just got rid of her?” I tried to keep my voice even but failed. “And by get rid of her, I do not mean kill her,” I added, finding it insane that I had to say that and be half serious about it.

“That’s a good question,” Jay conceded. “But one I don’t have an answer to. Simply, Felicity has been a part of my life for years, and I don’t trust many people. I need someone in my employ in my home—our home—who I can trust. Who isn’t a danger to my business, and most importantly a danger to you.”

I stared at him. “You don’t think Felicity is a danger to me?” I hated her name in my mouth. “To us?”

“Yes, I know that,” Jay clipped. He was tense, coiled tight. I didn’t know if it was from me calling him out or if he was angry with himself for what he’d done. I really fucking hoped it was the latter.

“So why, Jay?” I queried, my voice tiny this time, all of my hurt somehow packaged in to it.

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly stressed in a way I hadn’t seen before, except on the plane earlier.

“Do you...” I trailed off, sucking in an unsteady breath. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he answered immediately and firmly. “Fuck no, Stella. I truly feel nothing for her.”

“That’s not true,” I seethed.

“You think I’m lying?” he challenged.

“I don’t know,” I griped back.

He stepped forward, yanking me closer to him, eyes dangerous. “After everything, Stella, you think I’d lie to you, of all people?”

“After everything, Jay, after Felicity, I don’t fucking know,” I hissed in his face.

I was breathing heavily, glaring at Jay, my blood hot, but not entirely with fury. A dark, ugly and sick part of me wanted him. Wanted him right here on the fucking grass where I used to feed the ducks as a child.

His eyes told me he wanted the exact same thing. That he was restraining himself.

Swallowing my twisted desire, I leaned back ever so slightly, communicating that there was going to be no more of that until I got the truth, even though I was terrified of it. Even though I was secretly wishing for lies that would comfort me, heal what he had cut. But there were no lies capable of doing that.

Jay cleared his throat. “I don’t have a noble reason for her being there, in our house.” There was a bite to his voice, I knew that he was pissed off at me for abandoning the our in the wake of this, but I was too pissed off about this to care.

“The truth isn’t going to fix this. Isn’t going to make up for shit, and honestly, if I could think of a lie that would make what I did okay, I’d tell it,” he proclaimed.

I pursed my lips. Had I expected anything less? Jay was standing stiffly, even though he was wearing his ‘casual Jay’ attire of faded jeans, a charcoal V-neck and expensive sneakers. His chest was broad and delicious, arms smooth and muscled and incredibly distracting.

He’d let his hair grow even longer because he’d noticed I liked running my hands through it, the inky black velvet curling softly around the harsh angles of his face. He was clean shaven because there was never a time when he wasn’t, and his lips were pressed in a thin line.

He was pissed that I had put distance between us. I knew he wanted to touch me, I wanted it too. But I couldn’t. Couldn’t hear this with his hands on me. It would be too easy to forgive, to forget.

“She’s a powerful woman,” he continued. “A very rich woman. From a very old family. She was the first woman I had an ... arrangement with. In fact, she had enjoyed many such arrangements prior to ours.”

My brain worked to process his words. She was his first. Beyond that, she was the one who taught him about arrangements. She was special. The thought was poison. My insides were melting, and I ached to scream at him to shut the fuck up. To never mention her again. But I kept my mouth shut, fisting my hands at my sides.

“I didn’t love her,” Jay went on, his voice hard and firm. “I need you to know that. Need you to stop with those toxic, destructive thoughts I know are tearing through your head.” His eyes bore into me. “I appreciated her for what she gave me. But there was no love. Not on my side, at least.” He paused, letting me digest everything.

Normally, if my fiancé was talking about the woman who taught him about his contemporary sex life, the woman who had been in our house for the entirety of our relationship... Oh wait, there was nothing fucking normal about this. But normally, if I was having an uncomfortable, hurtful conversation, I’d be fidgeting, pacing. But for this I was standing stock still, letting the hits land.


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