Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11) Read Online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
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Donnelly raises his hand. “I’m her baseline.”

“I followed that.” Jane’s brows bunch at me. “You don’t even like science.”

I do enjoy science, just not science classes, but I’m not arguing over something unimportant. I just nod and say, “Exactly. Tom, Eliot, and I have this theory that you can make anything fun, given the right circumstances. I’m making science fun. With sex.” My smile grows, especially as I remember talking with Donnelly about my dangerous pussy, how he volunteered to eat me out, for science—and if given the chance, I’d want it to happen all over again.

Jane is grinning too, understanding bits of me in a way—the bits that matter most right now, and all my worries begin to float downstream.

But then Jane says, “Maximoff—”

“Can’t know,” I interrupt firmly. “I can’t even imagine what his reaction would be if he knew Donnelly and I hooked up—for scientific purposes—but still.” I look to Donnelly. “Moffy goes three-fourths Loren Hale, and there is no universe you’d ever survive one-half of my dad if he found out.”

It hurts imagining what that might look like.

Donnelly stares off for a beat. What if he’s rethinking being my baseline? What if I’m becoming his dirty little secret?

My heart lurches, just as Jane intakes a deep, conflicted breath. She’s wincing. Probably at the idea of withholding something from Moffy. The two of them—Moffy and Jane, Jane and Moffy—have always shared more than just a friendship. They might not be twins, but they’ve grown alongside each other like they were born at the same time. They’ve shared secrets. Shared memories.

So even though Moffy is my brother, he has a special bond with Jane that is something greater than a cousin and different than a sister. I imagine it’s the kind of bond Eliot and Tom have always had. I wouldn’t be as pressed as Jane is to keep a secret from Maximoff.

“Jane,” I plead. “It was a one-time thing. He really doesn’t need to know.” Queen of Curiosity, please!

Jane very diplomatically glances to Donnelly for his take. He holds up his hands like he’s either surrendering or doesn’t want to be involved in this decision. I can’t tell which. “I’m cool with whatever she wants to do.”

With whoever I want to tell? He’s leaving that up to me?

Pancake heart.

It just needs some syrup.

Jane and I lock eyes. Please. Please. Jane.

Something must work. Something. Because Jane says, “Okay. I won’t say anything to Moffy.”

I pop up from the ground, on my feet in a blink, and charge forward. Wrapping my arms around Jane, I hug her tightly. “If the Thebulan gods were real, they’d anoint you with glitter and a lifetime supply of great sex in thanks for keeping my great sex a secret.”

It truly was great. Even if it was cut short.

Once we step back from each other, Jane spins towards Donnelly. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“I’d rather die.” Seriousness is etched in his face, and yet it makes me sad. The thought of him dying. Even sadder at the thought of him dying for me.

Once Jane leaves, I expect Donnelly to follow close behind, as though this never happened. As though he’s dusting me beneath a rug to forget, always.

He picks up the sketchbook, his pen, and then peeks at his phone. Possibly to see if Beckett is ready to go.

“I guess this is goodbye,” I say softly, then wave. “Farewell, earthling, I hope your next voyage takes you to a better planet.”

“You sending me off yours?” Donnelly wonders.

“It’s not always luminous here.”

“I can see in the dark alright.” He tucks his phone in his front pocket, then places the sketchbook and pen on the desk. Is he staying…? With a nod to me, he asks, “You want to finish?”

“You want to finish me?” I begin to smile, realizing I’m not dust particles being swept beneath rugs.

He begins to grin. I’m not his shame. I’m not something to be discarded. I’m something worth finishing. Something worth the orgasmic ending.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “As long as you’re letting me stay.”

“As long as you’re willing,” I whisper.

He’s already coming forward.

We don’t kiss, unearthly reader. We migrate towards the bed together like a tether is pulling us. Smiling, we slip beneath the sheets. I shed my shorts, and his lips and tongue burrow against my heat. And I lose myself to the way Donnelly teases and flicks, the way his mouth writes pleasure along tender, sensitive things.

It crests tears.

It curls toes.

It arches hips.

It spurns moans.

Blissful tingling, heart-racing sensations send me, and I learn that in Paul Donnelly’s Dictionary, good means out-of-this-world extraordinary.

5

LUNA HALE

PRESENT DAY

“Look, Mom, it’s Spider-Man!” A little boy in a Yankees ballcap points in my direction. While he bounces giddily on his feet, his stylish mother gives me an apprehensive appraisal. I guess she’s thinking Who’s this freak in a Spider-Man costume?


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