Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
As soon as the chilly night air hits me, I’m suddenly sleepy.
“I didn’t puke,” I inform.
“Good news.” He lifts me up.
“I can walk.”
“I know you can.” He shuts the door and carries me bride-style to the front door.
“But it’s kinda nice to be carried when it’s without being upside down over your shoulder,” I tell him, looping my arms around his neck and smiling wide.
His eyes sparkle with amusement and look as beautiful as the glittery-with-stars night sky. “I’ll try to remember your preference for bein’ carried.”
“I’m gonna miss this,” I say, instead of saying, I’m going to miss you, like I’m thinking. Because I will. As bossy as he can be, as much as he’s pissed me off a few times with carrying me places, taking my phone, and leaving me with babysitters, he truly seems like he’s just doing everything he can do to convince me how right we are for one another.
If only that were true.
“Miss what?” he asks, opening the front door.
“Never mind.”
“You’re not gonna miss nothin’ here, Amie. Everything you want from me, you’ll have from me if it’s in my power to give it. For as long as I live, which I’m hoping will be a long, long fucking time.”
He locks the door.
“Shit, you guys wrecked the joint,” he says while I’m still absorbing strange emotions from his statement.
I look around. Yeah, we left a bit of a mess of his kitchen. We just ran off to go to the bar without putting anything away. It’s far from trashed in here, just looks like we had a little party.
“My ma never leaves anything a shambles. You girls got her truly shitfaced today.”
“It ain’t that bad. And uh… correction. Your mommy got us shitfaced. She brought the booze, mixed it, and did most of the pouring, Mason Quinn. Don’t kid yourself. That momma is one badass mamma-jamma just like your daddy is a silver wolf. Those two are smokin’ together, too.”
Mason rolls his eyes, but it looks like fake aggravation on his gorgeous face.
“Not surprised two beautiful people like that made someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you.”
His eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Thanks, baby. That’s a nice thing to say.”
And then he’s moving us toward the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water and carrying me up the stairs.
I tell myself not to look down, but then something settles over me… I know he’s not going to drop me. He’s got me and would just not let that happen. It feels strange to know that about someone. Comforting. I’m able to somehow let go of my fear and just enjoy the ride straight up to his bed.
When he puts me down on that soft, comfy, perfect bed, he sets the bottles of water on the nightstand and is quickly unbuttoning and then throwing his flannel shirt off while kicking off his shoes.
His eyes are on my face the whole time he does it and there’s something infinitely sexy about that.
I bite my lip as he goes for his belt while toeing off his socks.
Once he drops his jeans, his big, hard dick bobbing up and making my thighs clench in anticipation, he starts working my boots and socks off.
“Lay back, baby,” he whispers, going for my fly.
I do what he says as he slowly peels my jeans down, eyes still on my face while he does. Goosebumps rise on my flesh and my panties go damper thinking about what’s to come.
I make a decision.
I’m gonna surrender. Just for tonight. Just for tonight, he’s mine. I’ll let myself believe that he’s supposed to be and therefore will be for the rest of my days – the man who looks at me like this. Mine. The man who touches me like this. Nobody else’s. Like he can’t get enough of me. Like he could stare at me for days and never stop appreciating me as a person, as a woman, as a sexual being. My man, a man who wouldn’t fuck someone else because all he wants is to fuck me. Make sure I smell like him so everyone knows he fucks me constantly because he can’t get enough of me. This is the man that wants to have a life with me. Watch sunsets with me. Cook crepes for me. Make babies with me.
My heart hurts that I can’t have that. Any of that.
Because it’s not mine, not meant to be mine.
But maybe it’s okay if for tonight, I pretend that it is.
Whether it’s the booze that’s letting me live in this fantasy land or it’s the notion that this, like all other good things in my life, are destined to come to an end and will likely end soon, I decide to pretend as much as I can.
I will myself to open up like a flower blooming and give him everything tonight. All of me. Physically, emotionally.