Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Travis….” I tilt my head back as he slides into me faster, and he presses a kiss against my neck.
Just as I’m getting used to his position, learning to love how his cock feels buried inside me, he slips out of me again.
I damn near whimper at the loss of contact, and before I can ask why he stopped, he moves under me.
“Here,” he says. “I want to make sure you come tonight, so sit on my face.”
“I…”
He smiles at my hesitation, grabbing my waist and positioning my pussy right over his mouth.
I don’t last long at all.
I dig my nails into his skin as tremors wrack through my body.
“Ahhhh…” I moan as they become more intense, until I can’t help but scream his name at the top of my lungs when it’s all too much.
He pulled me down against his chest and kisses my hair.
“Tatiana?” he whispers.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did it feel good?”
“Yes.”
He kisses my shoulder. “I forgot to tell you something earlier.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you, too.”
He reschedules his flight and stays with me for the rest of the weekend.
THIRTY-EIGHT
NO MORE DAYS OF “PRETEND”
TATIANA
Weeks Later
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sore and completely useless, I rolled over in bed.
The past couple weeks of my marriage were an utter dream, a blissful never-ending scene straight from a romance.
Every morning, I joined Travis for a protein breakfast with his trainer and kissed him goodbye for the afternoon. While he endured an intense workout, I attended business seminars.
For lunch, he devoured me in the shower before an evening run while I worked on Penelope’s bachelorette party and baby shower plans.
And at night, I slept in his bed while he kissed and held me.
Today had started just like all the days before, but I was struggling to find the right mimosa glasses for Penelope’s party.
Since Madeline had insisted on helping, we’d spent most of the afternoon taking turns to make store runs.
As I held another failed glass to the light, a knock sounded at the door.
“Coming, Madeline!” I rushed to the living room. “These won’t cut it either!”
Flinging the door wide open, I stepped back when I saw Penelope.
“Hey!” She smiled. “Are you ready for it?”
“Ready for what?”
“Today.” She held up an oversized pink bag. “Please don’t tell me that you forgot.”
“Today’s not your birthday, right?”
“Funny.” She moved past me. “Since I can’t take another Sunday without you in New York, I wanted to bring Manhattan and a new season of my latest soap opera obsession to you.”
“Wow.” I stuffed the glass into a drawer. “I’d love that.”
“I figured.” She opened her bag on the coffee table, pulling out champagne flutes, custom pajama sets, Rainy Day wine, and a Sailor Moon DVD. “I also have the latest issue of Skate World. You have to read what the new chair of the ISU is saying about the new costume rules. She’s out of her mind.”
I moved to the couch and watched her pull out more treats.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a glittery purple box.
“My memory box.” She handed it to me. “I remembered the one you made for your mom, so I decided to copy. I’m only halfway done, though.”
The images featured her standing atop the podium at all her previous competitions while Hayden sat in the front row.
Travis starred in a few. I did, too.
Her mother’s image was super-imposed next to her during her win in Sochi, and they looked utterly identical.
“You think my mom cares that I never made it to twenty-eight championships?”
“Not at all. I’m sure she’s beyond proud of you.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “She’s probably still mad at Travis for missing out on Sochi, though.”
“If I’d known ahead of time that he was going to use his money on me instead of coming to see you there, I would’ve stopped him. I swear.”
“Well, it’s not like he ever—” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “What do you mean you would’ve stopped him from spending his money on you?”
Shit.
“We weren’t friends back then,” she said. “Outside of the mean voicemails he left for you ever so often, when would he have even talked to you?”
“I misspoke.” I shook my head. “I’m mixing it up with that new show, The Grumpy Alpha Spice Diaries. I watched a few episodes this week.”
She stared at me for several seconds, and I swallowed, selfishly hoping that her memory would falter in this moment.
“Did you say Grumpy Alpha Spice Diaries?” she asked. “You gave it a try?”
“I did.” I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s as terrible as the other show we’re watching.”
“It’s a freakin’ masterpiece.” She laughed, dumping the last of the snacks out of her bag. “Ugh! I forgot the plastic garnishes. I’ll be right back.”
She left, and I downed an entire glass of wine, cursing myself.
That was close, Tati. Too damn close.
Fifteen minutes later, she knocked on the door again.