Jessica's POV
Bailey brushed his fingers across my cheek, that unsettling smile never leaving his face. Terror froze me in place, making it impossible to move or speak.
"The difference between your husband and me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "is that I see through every facade, Jessica. I know exactly what kind of woman you really are underneath all that pretense."
"You don't know anything about me," I finally managed to spit out, my voice shaking with rage as I glared at him.
He cocked his head to the side, studying me like I was some fascinating specimen. "Don't I? A woman who craves different men in her bed night after night isn't exactly virtuous. A woman who can't be satisfied with just one encounter. Let's drop the innocent act, Jessica. You're nothing but a desperate woman who needs to be satisfied constantly just to keep herself together. Tell me I'm wrong."
"That was before," I whispered, but even I could hear how pathetic my voice sounded.
