Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Yep, I’m that naïve.
That love drunk and multiple-orgasm deluded.
Looking back on it later, I’ll want to slap my smugly optimistic self in the face and tell him to stop being a fool.
But in the moment, I’m so well-sexed and psyched to spend the evening with my favorite person that I miss the subtle cues that might have warned me of impending trouble, if only I’d been paying closer attention.
If only…
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harlow
I’m someone’s girlfriend.
Derrick’s girlfriend.
I am Derrick’s girlfriend.
I repeat the words over and over in my head as we eat dinner at the big family table—plus one chair for Chuck, who breezes in twenty minutes late and smelling of motor oil, making Lauren shoot murderous nose wrinkles his way as he wolfs down a burger as if he hasn’t been fed in days—but they don’t get any easier to handle.
In fact, watching the happy surprise on my family’s faces as Derrick hands out his gifts, only makes the chaos in my skull worse.
The people I love are falling hard for this man, too.
This is dangerous and irresponsible all around!
By the time we head down to the board game tournament in the lobby, my insides are a smoking dumpster fire composed of equal parts excitement and existential dread. I tell the dread voice that having feelings for Derrick isn’t a threat to our survival, but Dread is having none of that.
Dread reminds me of Derrick’s impending move to Syracuse and our history of hating each other and how mean his glares can get when he’s cranky. Dread draws my attention to my bickering parents, who make laying checkers on a board look like something that should be handled with the assistance of a marriage counselor, and nods toward stinky Chuck and my impeccably dressed sister and the cold war currently raging between them while their children run wild in the bouncy house inflated in one corner of the lobby.
But then Excitement pops up to squeal about how much fun it is to be on Derrick’s team for charades. She further celebrates our Pictionary triumph and Derrick’s insistence that I represent us in both the chess and checkers competitions.
“I bow to your superior skill,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as I settle into the chair at the chess table to wait for my opponent.
“That’s smart, but also unexpected,” I say, glancing up at him. “I know how competitive you are.”
He laughs. “Knowing when to step aside can also be a winning strategy. I’m just glad we’re playing in teams. I was worried we’d have to go head-to-head for the trophy, you’d beat my ass, and I’d have to covet that giant Shufflebottoms’ bear on your mantel for the rest of my life. But now, we’ll get to share it.” He leans down to whisper near my ear. “Because we are going to win, Bossy. No mercy, no prisoners. That bear is ours.”
“And we’re going to put it on my bedside table,” I hiss back. “And gloat about our victory every time we bang.”
“Yes.” His eyes glitter. “So much gloating. It’s going to be so hot.”
Stifling a giggle as an older woman settles into the chair across from me, I force my attention back to the board.
But it isn’t easy. All I really want to do is jump out of my chair and into Derrick’s arms and beg him to take me upstairs and get naked with me again.
But I’m learning that delayed gratification can be fun.
It’s also great for banishing Mr. Dread. By the time Derrick and I trounce Lauren and Chuck in Connect Four around ten o’clock, I’m too horny to be anxious anymore. And honestly, having the activities director declare Derrick and I the winning team and hand over the trophy isn’t nearly as exciting as knowing we’re finally clear to head back to our room.
I love winning, I really do.
But I love being alone with Derrick more.
Throwing that “L” word around an awful lot for someone who knows better, Dread pipes up, but his gloomy meditations are drowned out by the chorus of happy voices celebrating the moment Derrick scoops me into his arms to carry me—and our trophy—to the bedroom.
“Ready for our first serious gloat fuck?” he asks, kicking the bedroom door closed behind us.
“So ready,” I whisper, playing up the huskiness in my voice as he sets me on my feet by the bed. “I’m going to gloat so hard.”
I place our win on the nightstand; Derrick groans and bites his lip. “Oh, yeah. So hard. It’s going to be fucking intense.”
And it is. But not in the way I imagine as he tackles me, giggling, to the mattress and we race each other to see who can get naked first.
What starts out fun and sexy in a silly way, quickly becomes something more powerful. I don’t know exactly when the mood changes, but my giggles eventually give way to ragged sighs and grateful moans, and by the time Derrick glides inside of me, my heart is in my throat.