Marrying The Wounded King: My Ex's Regret

s Col

l of my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Yo

keeping my gaze fi

ss he had purchased for me only an hour ago. We were walking down Fifth Avenue, the sun g

ce dropping to that low, charming pitch that used to

mond. And if she thinks that, she might call off the wedding. And

r from my forehead with a tenderness that was entirely performativ

to be punis

I whis

s me on t

stomach churni

waist. Hard e

his jaw. He smelled of expensive cologne mas

a voice c

black SUV at the curb. Chelsea was beaming, looking like a vision in

helsea squealed, linking her arm throug

e locked on the spot where Antone's hand possess

elsea asked, e

I lied, the words tasti

at Desmond, batting her lashes. "Babe, you promised to help me pic

mond said

d, tilting her head. "Un

trap. If Desmond refused, he admitted he still care

of light. He adjusted his cufflin

e said. "

Chelsea, offering crystal flutes of champagne and hollow compliments. I was direct

ng the salesgirl. "Put Dallas in the A-line. The white one. I

ed, glancing between

ot quite reaching her eyes. "She

leather couch, swirling a glass of scotch, sta

g me toward the dressing room wit

later, I s

a train that pooled around my feet like spilled liquid moonl

mirror. I look

wasn't

his phone low, angling it so he could snap a photo of my body. I followed his gaze. H

d, his voice thick with a p

ne. "Although, it might be a bit tight in th

stood

idn't just break; it shattered un

liquid mixed with bright red blood dripped

nd said. His voice was

eeding!" Chelsea ga

o the train of the dress. He looked at Antone, then up at me. His eyes

ed, the order leaving no