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Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me
img img Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me img Chapter 8 8
8 Chapters
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 8 8

Harper stood in the shower for forty minutes. She scrubbed her skin until it was red. She wanted to wash off the feeling of the fitting room, the smell of the Uber, the memory of the photos.

But mostly, she wanted to wash off the ghost of Archer's touch.

She dried off and put on her most unappealing pajamas-flannel, buttoned to the neck. She wrapped a robe tightly around herself.

When she walked into the bedroom, Archer was already in bed. He was lying on his back, scrolling on his phone. He was wearing only his boxer briefs.

He looked up as she entered. His eyes raked over her flannel pajamas with distaste.

"You're wearing that?" he asked. "I thought... maybe we could make up properly."

He patted the mattress beside him.

Harper walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in, staying as close to the edge as possible. "I'm tired, Archer."

"You're always tired lately," he grumbled. He tossed his phone onto the nightstand and rolled toward her.

He draped an arm over her waist. His hand was heavy. His fingers started to walk up her ribcage.

"Come on," he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. It smelled of toothpaste and stale scotch. "Let me make you feel better."

His hand moved lower, toward her hip.

Harper flinched. A violent, involuntary spasm. Her body was rejecting him. It wasn't just mental anymore; it was physiological.

"Don't," she said, grabbing his wrist.

"Don't what?" His voice hardened. "Touch my fiancée?"

"I said no."

"Why? Because of him? Because of Van Der Bilt?" Archer's insecurity flared instantly into anger. "Did you like him touching you? Is that it?"

"You're disgusting," Harper spat. She sat up, pushing him away.

"I'm disgusting? I'm the one paying for this apartment! I'm the one paying for that dress you left crumpled on the floor!" He sat up, looming over her. "You owe me, Harper."

You owe me.

That was it. The transaction.

"I don't owe you my body," Harper said, her voice shaking.

Archer sneered. "Whatever. Go sleep in the guest room then. If you're going to act like a roommate, you can sleep like one."

Harper didn't wait. She grabbed her pillow and bolted.

She ran down the hall to the guest room. She locked the door. Then she dragged the heavy armchair and wedged it under the handle.

She slid down to the floor, her back against the door, and buried her face in her knees. She didn't cry. She was past crying. She was just cold.

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