Page 22 of Fool Me Twice

He’d just gone home to Cathy.

So how on earth had he found himself here? He punched his pillow as he tried to get comfortable. How had he ended up hiding out from Shari in the arse end of nowhere, like he’d done something wrong or was ashamed of himself?

Just because he’d known his marriage had been a mistake before they’d finished cutting the cake, that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to make it work. Marriage counselling had helped, but so had living at opposite ends of the country for months at a time. For a while, when he’d found out about Jaxon and how Shari had treated him, he’d been ready to throw in the towel, but somehow she’d convinced him she’d only done it to protect him. Telling him he had no idea how many people had crawled out of the woodwork over the years with these crazy stories, and she was just making sure Jaxon was genuine before telling him.

Last year things had got really bad between them, but they’d gone back to marriage counselling and Shari had begun seeing a new therapist, and things had been going really well between them. Shari had even suggested they try for a baby. He’d been delighted, of course, and they’d certainly had a lot of fun trying. But just after they’d arrived in Tahiti for Jaxon’s wedding, she began freaking out about forgetting her birth control pills, and Peter knew there was no coming back from that.

His stomach flipped at the sound of a woman’s voice outside his door. Maybe Evie had come to check on him before turning in for the night. Cupping his hand in front of his mouth, he puffed into it – his breath wasn’t exactly minty fresh, but it was okay. But if Evie was right outside the door, he didn’t have time to hop to the bathroom for a quick freshen up. Wriggling up the bed, he tried to sit up; the last thing he wanted was Evie to see him looking all frail and pathetic, lying in bed like some old man, after his fall in the shower.

Relaxing back in what he hoped was a casual way, he waited. He slunk back down against his pillow when he heard Matt’s voice and the sound of a door closing. She hadn’t been coming to see him; she’d been on her way to Matt’s room. His chest tightened at the thought of Evie and Matt having make-up sex after their earlier row.

Why should it bother him what Evie got up to? She was a free agent, her own person. She meant nothing to him and could have sex with whoever she wanted. It was none of his business.

But did she have to do it next door?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, growing larger and larger the more he thought about Evie having sex with Matt in the next room. Shaking his head, he tried to dislodge the images, tried to concentrate on other things, and it was just beginning to work when the moaning started. The louder the moans grew, the bigger the knot became, until his stomach felt like it had gone into spasm.

He reached for his ear buds and jammed them into his ears, trying to drown out the sounds with some music. Wriggling further down the bed, he buried his head beneath the pillow, crushing it against his left ear to muffle the sounds. After several minutes, hot and barely able to breathe, he let go of the pillow, grateful that the moans had finally stopped.

At least now he just had his imagination to contend with... until the knocking started. It sounded like something hard pounding against the wall, harmonising with the orgasmic cries of both sexes.

Huffing, he wrapped the pillow around his head once more.

Yeah, my life officially sucks.

Chapter twelve

“Someone’s grumpy,” Evie said the next morning when Peter huffed and tutted every time she tried to adjust his pillows to enable him to sit up to eat his breakfast.

“Yeah, well, I hardly slept a wink last night.” He shot her a look. “Thank you very much.”

Evie frowned. She had no idea what he was talking about, but had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of asking him to elaborate.

“Good night, was it?” he snapped.

Evie shrugged. “It was okay, I guess,” she replied, a little confused by his attitude. The movie she’d watched had been okay, but her evening had been nothing special. “But I’ve had better.”

“Better?” He almost choked on his tea.

“Yes, better. Anyway, what’s wrong with you this morning? You’ve got a face like a smacked arse.”

He stared at her, one brow cocked higher than the other. “You don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?” What the hell was up with him this morning?

Peter put down his tea and continued to stare at her.

“Go on then, spit it out.” She met his stare defiantly, feeling like a naughty child who’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. But she didn’t have all day to hang around playing guessing games. “Something’s obviously bugging you.”

He looked away. “I’m just... tired, that’s all.”

“Aren’t we all,” she muttered under her breath.

“Okay then.” He started up again. “I’ll tell you why I’m so tired, shall I?”

“Oh, please do.” She rolled her eyes and waited expectantly for his big revelation. “I mean, it must be exhausting lying in bed all day long, having everyone running around and waiting on you hand and foot.”

“Well, if you hadn’t kept me awake all night with your shagathon with lover boy next door,” – he jabbed his thumb toward the partition wall – “then I might have got some bloody sleep.”

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