Garrett

Halfway to the apartment, my anger had cooled. The brisk air and long walk provided me with ample time to consider logical explanations for the manuscript. What if Ivy had confided in her sister and never intended for that information to end up in a book? What if Iris had betrayed her sister? That didn't line up with what I knew about Iris, but then again, I had been wrong about Ivy. Iris could very well differ from I imagined her to be.

Another factor that contributed to the lessening of my temper was the story itself. I snuck a few more pages of the manuscript while waiting at crosswalks, and before long, it wasn't anger heating my blood. Whatever kind of person Iris was, one thing was for certain. The woman could write her ass off.

"Oh, my."

I ripped my eyes off of a particularly graphic paragraph describing the almost painful stretch of the heroine's lips around her lovers's cock and glanced over to find a woman reading the pages in my hand. She glared at me when I folded it in half.

"I wanted to finish that."

The crosswalk sign changed, and the crowd surged forward. I waved at her apologetically as I stepped into the street. "Sorry about that. It's an unpublished work."

She hustled after me, pushing her frizzy blonde hair out of her eyes. "At least tell me the author and title so I can buy it when it's out."

"Iris Wilson. The Office Affair."

Revealing that much might get Iris into trouble, but frankly, I didn't give a shit. If she was going to write about my sex life with her sister, then she could deal with the consequences.

The woman beside me squealed. "Oh, my gosh. I love her books! But she's never written anything that spicy before. It's always been closed door."

"Closed door?" We reached the other side of the road. The apartment building was just ahead.

"You know, fade to black? She never writes the dirty bits, but holy shit." She rubbed her eyes under glasses. "This is going to be her best book yet."

I stared at the manuscript. Yes, the writing was spectacular, but that wasn't the only thing that made the sex scenes good. It was the way she captured the chemistry between the main characters. Their undeniable need for each other. It was a perfect echo of my feelings for Ivy.

"I'll make sure to tell her she's got a winner," I told my new friend.

"You do that." She pulled out her phone. "I cannot wait to call my sister and tell her what I just read."

When she was out of sight, I approached the apartment. The doorman—Dave, according to his name tag—waved at me and buzzed me inside when I gave him the apartment number and name.

"Ms. Iris isn't in, but her sister is," Dave explained.

"That's perfect." Better to deal with one sister at a time.

Getting on the elevator, my anxiety ratcheted up a notch with every floor that I passed until, at last, the doors slid open with a loud chime. Now that I was no longer furious, I felt guilty for barging in on her while she didn't feel well. At the very least, I could have arrived with medicine and soup and whatever else you brought a sick person.

Mind made up to run to the store before knocking on her door, I turned to get back on the elevator and froze when my eyes fell on her apartment door. It wasn't shut.

Shoving the papers in my coat pocket, I approached the door. Jaw clenched and muscles tensing, I scanned the door for signs of forced entry. Some of the fear choking me faded when I saw everything was in good order, and I prayed she simply hadn't latched it shut behind her when she got home. As sick as she was, she may have bolted for the bathroom the moment she arrived.

If that was the case, I would get her settled before going to the store, and soon as she was well, I would make it very clear to her that she needed to be more careful. As a woman living along, a mistake like that could cost her everything. It would cost me everything.

I walked inside her apartment and found nothing out of place. Sushi blinked at me from inside her cat house. Seeing the small cat out and unbothered eased the rest of my panic, and I drew a full breath for the first time since seeing the door ajar.

Ivy would be the death of me. Maybe I would put her on her stomach and spank her perfect, round ass cheeks until they turned pink. Then again, it wouldn't be much of a punishment. The last time I'd done that, she'd been dripping by the time I finished, and I'd slid inside her in a single thrust. God, that memory was so vivid, it was almost as if I could hear her moaning right now.

Wait. I stormed down the hallway and stared at another door. This one led into a bedroom and was wide open, giving me an unobstructed view of what was happening inside.

Ivy braced herself against the wall with both of her hands. She wore nothing but a tight black skirt that was currently bunched around her hips. The man standing behind her held onto her waist with one hand and wound her long hair around his other fist as he drove himself into her. Her heavy breasts bounced with every stroke, and a foreign look of intense focus scrunched up her features.

I couldn't make myself look away or leave. That's what I should do, but I stood there and felt my heart crumble with every thrust. When the man came inside of her with a triumphant grunt, it shattered into dust, and I finally stumbled backward, hitting the wall and knocking a picture off of it.

"Garrett?" Ivy shrieked, her hands flying to her chest to cover herself. "What are you doing here?"

What was I doing here? What was I—Rage blinded me. I ripped the manuscript out of my coat and flung it at her. She stared as the papers fluttered to the floor. The piece of shit who had been fucking her brains out disappeared the moment he saw me.

"Don't bother acting modest for him," I snarled. "I've already seen everything."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, I think there's some confusion here—"

"The only confusion here is mine and the fact that I ignored the facts. Fucking man-eater. That's what they called you, and I should have listened."

"Garrett, wait!"

But I couldn't. Because at any moment, I was going to lose it and beat the shit out of the man cowering in that bedroom. For daring to touch what was mine. And then maybe I would buy him a drink as a thank you for saving me from myself. If only I'd seen the truth before I fell in love with her.