Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Every sane, self-preserving idea I’ve ever had gets ransacked. If I ever had a true conscience, it’s now unrecognizable.
My free hand covers hers on my knee, my fingers sliding between hers while my right hand dips into her underwear. And she is so. Fucking. Wet.
“M-Milo …” Her weight collapses onto my leg again, and she swallows hard when my middle finger strokes the warm, wet path between her legs, circling her clit with slow strokes. She grips my leg harder, and her nails dig into the wood table, making a soft scratching sound.
My middle finger slips inside her, and I rub her clit again with the heel of my hand. She drops her head back against my shoulder.
Chest heaving.
Back arched.
It’s taking unimaginable strength to keep from unzipping my jeans and burying my cock inside her. I deserve a medal.
Indie moans. It’s long and soft. And I feel it everywhere. Then she melts; her muscles relax, molding her body to mine. Her flesh is pulsing … gripping my finger inside her.
“Tell me you know I’m marrying Jolene,” I whisper in her ear. I’m not trying to be an asshole; I think I am one by circumstance.
Instantaneously, she stiffens—every inch of her.
“Tell me, Indie. Tell me you know.” This need I have to protect her feels admirable until I realize the person I need to protect her from the most is … me.
She says nothing, but her head moves in a barely detectable nod before lifting it from my shoulder.
It’s like someone presses rewind. My hand disappears from her underwear. Her feet grip the floor. She lifts her body from my lap. In silence, she peels off my tee. I don’t look at her. I focus on the pasta, knowing my stomach is too knotted to take another bite tonight. Only when the door clicks open do I glance up at Indie.
“But you will be mine,” she says.
I’m not sure I’m hearing her correctly, but then she glances back at me. “You will marry Jolene, but you will never be hers.”
10
KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSE
INDIE
I’ve made an informed decision. I’ll take Milo for however long I can have him. And then … I’ll walk away. Let’s hope this makeshift wall around my heart holds up.
“Mathias is going to ask you to go out Friday,” Hallie says as soon as I slide into her car the day before Thanksgiving.
“I’m busy,” I say, shooting her a nervous smile.
“What are you talking about? Did you hear what I said? Mathias Crowley, hot running back, looks like he’s a senior in college, is interested in you. Are you sick?”
I can’t think about Mathias Crowley when I still feel Milo Odell’s hand between my legs. “I met someone.” I shouldn’t tell Hallie or anyone about Milo, but I have to give her a reason to stop harassing me about Mathias Crowley. Sure, before Milo kissed me, I would have been interested in Mathias the way I was interested in Benton and Camden and every other guy I filtered through to not think about Milo and not make Fletcher proud of me.
“Oh, tell me more.” Hallie gobbles up every morsel I offer her.
“He works for Fletcher.”
“That’s not good. The last thing you need is your dad grilling some employee over what he did or didn’t do to his daughter. What if his henchman finds out?”
I open my water bottle and take a sip. “Henchman?”
“That hot piece of ass in the cowboy hat who dragged your drunk ass home from Camden’s house. He’s one of your dad’s henchmen. You can tell.”
I pause my gulping and slowly lower my water bottle. “Milo?”
“Yeah. He seems to know your whereabouts all the time. You know he’ll be the first to know if you’re messing around with one of your dad’s employees.”
“I’ve told you … Fletcher isn’t my dad. And Milo won’t say anything.”
“How can you be sure he won’t say anything if he finds out?”
I bite my lips to hide my grin. “I just am.” My gaze shifts to the window and the endless acres of flat, emerald-green land passing by us.
“How old is he?”
“Who?”
“Duh … the guy who works for your dad … er … Fletcher?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six? Are you fucking kidding me?” She shoots me a sideways glance, eyes popping out of her tiny head.
I smirk.
“Have you had sex with him?”
“Does it matter?”
“You’re still in high school, and he’s twenty-six. Yeah, it matters.”
“I’m eighteen. Seventeen is the age of consent anyway.”
“So that’s a yes? You’ve had sex with him?”
“It’s a ‘none of your business.’ Why do you care?”
“Jesus … what’s up with you? I thought we talked about this stuff. You’ve told me about every other guy you’ve hooked up with.”
“He’s kinda taken. So I’d rather not overshare. Not that I think you’d say anything. I know how easily information can get leaked.”
“Taken? Married? He’s married?” Her voice escalates.