Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
He blinks first. “No way.”
Is it really that hard to believe?
He chokes out a laugh. “She’s not the relationship type. But you’d know that, if you knew her at all.”
I’m done with him. “Stay away from her.” It’s a simple threat that catches him off-guard. As I make my way to the driver’s side, he gulps surprised air in his lungs.
And he shouts after me, “No way would she date the guy whose family kidnapped her! That’s fucked up on so many levels, man! You shouldn’t even be around her!”
It pierces my ears, scrapes against my brain, and I cage breath. That’s not true. We love each other. I slam my door once I’m inside the Range Rover, and I start the car in near silence.
Only when I peel onto the road, do I look over at Luna, and her widened eyes scare the shit outta me. “Luna? You good?” Please be good.
She hugs her backpack. “Were you just marking your territory, or do you really want to be my boyfriend?”
She heard everything then.
I exhale a breath and fly through green lights. “I was definitely marking my territory, and I also wanna be your boyfriend.” I try to hold her gaze, too eager for her response.
And ever so slowly, her lips hoist in the cutest smile. “I guess that makes me your girlfriend.”
I grin back. “Looks like it.” I’ve been hanging on to this goal post for dear life, and I just flew through it. Confetti cannons, stadiums of applause, champagne spewing in the air, I hear and see it all in my head, and my grin widens. I have the girl.
Relief follows the elation. She’s mine. I take another big breath. One goal down. Gotta create more.
Goal: keep your girlfriend happy.
I glance at Luna. She’s smiling, but it flickers in and out.
Tension still wraps around us. I just confronted a possible dickwad ex-hookup of hers. Noah Perch. The fact is a ticking bomb in the backseat, and by the way she fiddles with the AC and radio, I get the sense she’s not ready to talk about it. The thing about starting a relationship when I’ve never been in one is trying to make it last.
10
PAUL DONNELLY
It’s 4 a.m.—and after sneaking back inside her parents’ house, we split to take showers in our separate bathrooms with the promise to meet for a late-night bite in the kitchen.
I beat her here first.
Not switching on the lights, I open the fridge, and the blue glow illuminates the warm, homey, lived-in space. Hardwoods are scratched from dogs and time. Cereal boxes are left out. Bruised apples slowly rot in a fruit bowl.
No glitz and glam like the Cobalt Estate.
I can’t believe just how much I love it here, and I think it has more to do with her than anything else.
Remnants of her happy childhood exist all around me. The messy fingerpaint artwork of an alien abduction, hung above the breakfast table and signed Queen of Thebula. The Hale family pics stuck with superhero magnets to the freezer door. Luna makes goofy faces in most of the photos.
I smile and reach in the fridge, collecting a couple water bottles. I hear the squeak of floorboards and swing my head towards the door.
Luna flashes the Vulcan salute, her light brown hair wet on her shoulders. She’s only wearing a black cotton dress with spaghetti straps, more like a slip. It teases my gaze to her exposed thighs. Goddamn. Blood dives straight down to my cock, and I force my eyes up to hers.
She’s blushing.
I return her greeting with the I love you hand sign. “Sparkle on, Hale.” Glitter shimmers on her cheeks and in her damp hair. Scrubbing did nothing to remove the power of the craft supply for me either.
She smiles, a softer one, and her gaze travels over me. “I knew I’d find you in the light.”
I’m standing in the blue glow of the open fridge. My chest rises. So much about our date tonight has spun me like a carnival ride to the past with her, and I’d jump on a whirling turntable a thousand times over.
Spin me till I die.
A grin edges across my mouth. “Girl, stop making me blush.” I kick the fridge closed and see her smile grow.
After she gathers pretzels and peanut butter from the pantry, she hops on the counter beside the stove. She’s struggling to open the jar.
I edge closer, and she naturally spreads her legs for me. Fuck. What’s that cliché saying? A moth to a flame? Yeah, I’m the moth, and my hand slides against her soft thigh as I fit in the space between them. Her lips part in a breathy noise.
I flex to restrain a massive hard-on, and I thumb the fine lines of the galaxy tattoo on her inner thigh. My ears pick up her tiny moan caught in her throat. She looks down at my bulge. I’m only wearing Farrow’s drawstring pants, the fabric thin enough to see the outline of my hardening cock.