Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Say that like you mean it,” he snarls, looking more intense than I’ve ever seen.
“I do mean it,” I say.
But I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe myself.
“I guess this is another notch for you, anyway.”
I pull away from him and turn back the way we came. Luckily, there’s still nobody around this particular area of the beach. To think I was lying in the sand, in heaven, my body pulsing as he rubbed obsessively between my legs. What if somebody had walked by, aimed their camera, and got a snap of the Fame Warriors making a serious mistake? That’s what it was. I have to believe that—a mistake.
“Another notch?” he snaps, walking next to me.
It’s difficult to storm away when his legs are so long, his stride so wide.
“You heard me,” I say.
“Stop being so damn bratty.”
I glare at him. “Maybe that’s all I am. A nineteen-year-old brat. Get used to it.”
He smirks. My lips twitch, almost making me smile. I purposefully look anywhere but at him. It’s the only way to stop myself from smiling. We turn the corner from the golf club and come back into view of the main part of the beach where there are several people, dog walkers, and couples. One couple walks right by us. A few minutes earlier, they would’ve seen.
“You’re more than that,” he snaps. “What did you mean, another notch?”
“I got your letter, okay?” I snap. “From one of your women. Naked photo and everything. Could you please ask her not to mail them to our address in the future?”
“You saw that?” he asks.
“I opened it,” I tell him.
“Why?” he demands, walking close to me but not touching. He knows better than to do that with all these people in view.
“What do you mean?” My heart is suddenly beating way too fast.
“It’s a simple question. You saw a letter addressed to me and decided to open it. Why?”
It wasn’t addressed to you. I could tell him this. I could lie. It would be the easiest option, but something about it makes me feel so low and pathetic. “I was curious.”
That’s a half-truth, at least. It doesn’t tell the whole story, but it’s not as if I’m going to come right out and tell him about the crush.
“Anyway, that’s not the point,” I tell him. “You’re clearly used to getting what you want from women, but I won’t be just another one on your list, okay? Not when Paul is at stake.”
“Do you think I want to hurt Paul?” he growls. “And for the record, there is no list. I’ve got no clue who that woman is.”
“You don’t seem surprised about the letter, though.”
“Paul told me,” Kaleb snaps, his handsome features tight. “I don’t know who sent it, but I’m not interested in them.”
“Oh, right,” I reply sarcastically. “I guess I’m the only one you’re interested in, right? I guess I’m that special? I might be younger than you, Kaleb, but I’m not a complete idiot.”
He grunts, walking ahead of me. “I’m not a fucking player if that’s what you’re implying.”
Just like that, he’s striding away. My body is still aching all over, especially between my legs, my underwear rubbing against my pussy like it’s trying to torture me, tempt me. It’s as if my desire wants me to run after him, apologize, and tell him I’ll do anything he wants, but I’m not doing that.
“Douchebag!” I yell after him.
Without turning, he waves a hand, striding toward the houses, most likely his car. When I get home, Paul calls to me, “Sophie? Is everything okay?”
Pathetically, I wish he was asleep. It would make this so much easier. After what we just did—I can still feel the heat of the orgasm—it would be so much better for me. Paul is sitting up in bed, one hand wrapped around a pulley.
“Fine,” I say. “Why?”
“I heard Kaleb’s car. Bit strange, him leaving without saying goodbye.”
“Maybe he had a meeting or something,” I murmur, knowing I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Maybe that’s why I freaked and blamed him. It’s easier than facing the fact that I wanted it just as badly, maybe more. I’m the one who’s been waiting years for this.
I’ve been struggling to find the motivation for my college project, but I don’t have to convince myself to work on this video. I’m sitting in my bedroom, staring at my laptop, at Kaleb with the sun behind him, glistening in his hair as he stares off at the ocean. It’s a freeze-frame. It’s only been a couple of hours, but it’s still difficult to believe what we did so soon after we made this video.
I stroke my hand up my leg, looking at this man—so handsome, so confident, knowing he touched me right here not too long ago. He was moaning as he rubbed me faster, almost like it was turning him on just as much.