Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“We tried that,” she whispers.
I kiss the edge of her mouth, not caring when a car drives past. There’s a chance somebody we know is in it. I’ve got tinted windows. They wouldn’t be able to see us, but shouldn’t I feel ashamed? Some doubt? Shouldn’t I think about Noah and Elena and the mess we could make? I don’t. None of it. Just the shiver in my woman’s voice.
“That was before I knew the truth. I bet you were so nervous, wondering if you could do it with your mom and Noah sleeping in the same house, but you wanted it. I felt it. Your body was aching to give itself to me.”
She nods, biting her lip, and that shatters any remaining resolve. While we kiss again, I somehow stop my hand from going to her wrist and guide her hand to my groin. My manhood has never ached this much, seed bursting right to my tip, precome coating my length, but I have to treat her with the respect she deserves. That’s why I end the kiss.
“If I keep going,” I growl, “I won’t be able to stop. I’ll flatten the seat and fuck your horny, young virgin pussy right here. I’ll hammer you until you’ve got no choice but—”
I was about to say to get pregnant, but I quickly stopped.
“No choice?” she whispers.
“But to come for me. Only for me.”
“Just for you,” she says, voice breathy.
We’re so close to the admission that will seal us together forever.
“People will say—”
I cut her off with a kiss.
“I don’t give a damn what people say,” I snap. “Let them talk. Let them gossip about an uncle and his niece. Let them think they understand, but they don’t. Nobody does. Nobody can. They don’t know what it felt like at the wedding. I tried to resist you and failed, knowing I should’ve fought harder, but I felt relieved that I failed because it meant I got to be with you.”
Again, we collapse together until she places her hand on my chest and squeezes down, her fingernails scraping against me. There’s too much lust in her touch. It’s difficult, but I move away.
“We don’t want to be late for our date,” I say, trying for a smirk, but it feels phony even to me.
It’s almost time to tell her the truth. Tell her how much she means to me, but what if I do just that, and then Noah and Elena demand that we stop? Goddamn, what if, by a miracle, Layla feels the same, and then we have to stop? I wouldn’t be able to take that.
She interlocks her fingers in her lap, nodding. “Thanks for not judging me.”
“I’d never judge you.” I guide the car back to the road, struggling to keep my eyes on it. “Don’t worry. You’re going to give yourself to me. Next time, I’m taking you all the way.”
She lets out another breath, high-pitched, with hints of pleasure.
Eyes on the road, Miles. If I look at her now, I’ll crash the car and let myself imagine all the things we’ll do and the happiness and warmth they will lead to.
One day, when Noah and Elena give their consent if that ever happens.
“Do you really not care what people think?” Layla murmurs. “About you being my uncle, I mean?”
“Not even a bit,” I say firmly. “We’re going to…”
Be together forever.
I keep getting close to the whole truth.
“Make this work,” I finish weakly. “I promise.
“I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Layla
“What’s your professional opinion?” Miles asks, his smirk making me feel so special.
We’re sitting on the balcony of a remote restaurant, fires flickering along the edges, bathing the patio with their heat and warm light. Around us, people talk loudly, the chatter rising to the level where I’m confident nobody can hear Miles or me. It’s busier than I expected, but I haven’t recognized anyone I know. We’re far outside the city.
I raise my salmon on my fork, grinning. “It’s delicious, cooked perfectly.”
“Good,” he nods. “This place has great reviews, but I was worried it wouldn’t meet the master chef’s standards.”
I laugh. “I’d hardly call myself a master chef. You haven’t even tasted any of my recipes.”
“We need to remedy that as soon as possible.”
“There’s lots we need to remedy first.”
His eyebrows furrow as he cuts into his steak.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I know we’re supposed to forget about that for now.”
“How many times? You never need to apologize to me.”
“Never?”
“N-E-V-E-R.”
“So, if I ran outside, keyed your car, and smashed the windows, we’re all good?”
He chuckles. “That would be a cruel way to treat your uncle.”
“At least we’ve got the perfect alibi. We’re not on a date. You’re taking pity on your lonely niece and taking her to try a new restaurant.”
“Exactly. This is work research.”
I almost laugh, but then that familiar sensation tightens in my chest, the tight hand of guilt closing.