The Neighbor Wager Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
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The intensity of it overwhelms me.

She works through her orgasm, then she slows and catches her breath. “Use me.”

Use Deanna Huntington.

“Use me to come. However you need it.” She looks down at me. “Please.”

The please almost undoes me. It’s rare on her lips. It’s mine. A tone she doesn’t use with anyone else.

I bring my hands to her hips and tilt her a little closer, then I guide her over me.

Again and again.

Exactly how I need.

And then she breaks, rolling her hips in a perfect figure eight, and I come right there.

She draws the shape again and again, working me through my orgasm, groaning as I fill her.

She waits until I spill every drop, then she pulls back, untangles our bodies, finds her dress.

I wrap the condom in a tissue, stuff it in the now-used box, help her into her dress.

She fixes my boxers, jeans, shirt buttons. All but the top two.

I move into the driver’s seat.

She stays in the passenger.

The car still feels electric, but it’s not charged the same way. The energy is different. Softer and harder all at once.

Because I had her and she had me and I really want to do it again.

“How does the rest of this go?” she asks.

“We go home,” I say. “Do it again.”

I expect her to object, to tell me it was a one-time thing, a chance at magic. But she doesn’t. She nods and boots up the stereo.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Deanna

Halfway back to the house, it occurs to me:

I live with my sister. Yes, I have my own room, but I don’t have privacy in my apartment. Not the kind I need for this.

And with River staying with his grandmother all summer, I’m ready to guide him to a hotel.

“I share a place with Lexi.” I don’t want to bring her up. It dissolves the magic. And there is magic, as much as I can’t explain it.

“I have an idea.” He pulls onto the freeway. “Fern. She wants this to happen. I didn’t see it earlier, but I do now. Text her as me. Ask her to keep Lexi busy.”

“Really?” I ask.

He nods really.

I find the texts on his cell, the thread with his sister, and I text as him.

River: Do me a favor. Keep Lexi busy tonight. Ask her to sleep over.

Fern: Called it. I knew you wanted to bop D. She’s totally your type. North owes me $20. You’re all good on the Huntington Apartment front. Lexi already went home with someone. To his place.

She always goes to their place. Or somewhere else, in her car. That’s part of her MO.

Does she miss Jake enough she’s seeing him or is this someone else? Fern wouldn’t know the difference.

No. It’s not my problem. Jake knows they’re on a break. He knows they’re free to see other people. I advised him to forgive her if she sees someone else.

If he can’t do that—

Well, that’s his responsibility. Not mine.

I really hope he can. Because they are strangely perfect for each other. They’re both super freaks.

River: Who?

Fern: Don’t tell me you care, Mr. Romance. I know you’re not enough of a cad to go after two women at the same time. Or are you? I’ll come home and cockblock you right now.

River: No. Of course not.

Of course he isn’t.

This is our night.

And if Lexi is with another guy, well—

It’s her life. And I am comfortable with that. Whatever it means for the company.

Right now, though, I actually don’t care about the company, or her relationship with Jake, or her habit of finding a new guy every two weeks, or anything except fucking River again.

I’m not used to this feeling of work not mattering.

It’s scary and thrilling and I don’t care about that, either.

Because I really need to fuck him again.



Despite every intention of having my way with River, I fade the second I step inside the apartment. By the time I get to my room, remove my heels, and do away with my dress, I’m exhausted.

He notices. “Go to bed.”

I shake my head. “This first.”

“In the morning. When I get all your energy.”

My cheeks flush. Dirty talk is one thing. The sort of sweet yet sexy things he says are another.

How can anyone make sex sound so sweet and caring? The more kink, the sweeter, really. He’s a freak. That’s the only explanation.

Not that I mind.

I brush my teeth, wash my face, climb into my short pajamas then into bed.

He goes to take his turn, but I fall asleep before he gets back. I sleep soundly and wake with all the warmth and ease people associate with Sunday mornings.

The scents of tea and ham waft into the room.

The tea is normal, but ham? When did we buy ham?

I soak in the feeling of the cool sheets, the warm blanket, the heat from the other side of the bed.


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