Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
His knuckles feather along my cheek, pulling me into him. I close my eyes.
“Life isn’t fair, Indie girl. But as long as you’re alive, it’s really fucking beautiful. As long as you’re alive, there’s a reason to open my eyes, stand up, and breathe in and out.”
“You don’t owe him anything,” I whisper. “He’s an awful … awful man.”
Swallowing hard, Milo tips his head into a slow nod. “He’s awful. And I owe him everything even if you don’t understand.” He curls my hair behind my ear and smiles. “Had I not met Fletcher, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“No.” I rest my hand on his, keeping it pressed to my cheek. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to believe that everything happens for a reason.”
With a chuckle, Milo bends forward and kisses my neck. “Cause and effect. Everything does happen for a reason, but not in the cosmic or biblical way you’re suggesting. I’m a bigger believer in happenstance. You are the best happenstance.”
My fingers comb through his thick hair while he deposits a hot trail of kisses down my neck to my shoulder.
“Can I go to my favorite place?” he whispers.
I grin, closing my eyes. “What took you so long to ask?”
Milo chuckles. “Just trying to be a gentleman.” His hands grip my ass, pulling me closer.
We drive just outside of town and find a less-traveled road. Milo digs a horse blanket out of the back seat and spreads it in the bed of his truck. Then he gets lost inside of me. And I focus on this and only this.
The way we fit perfectly together.
His hands molded to my curves.
Our mouths fused into a long kiss filled with soft moans.
Then he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes.
Lips parted.
Sweat beading along his brow.
My eyes fight to stay open when I reach the top and tumble down the other side into that pool of euphoria. Milo quickens his pace and arches his back, letting an explicative fall from his lips attached to my name when he releases inside me.
And I think … what if I stopped taking my pill? What if I got pregnant with his baby? What would Fletcher do?
Milo collapses onto me, his labored breath a whisper at my ear.
I know what would happen. Milo would still marry Jolene. And I’d be shipped off to abort the baby or worse … Fletcher would sell the child to some bastard much like himself. Deep in Texas, where a handful of white men own everything and everyone, freedom doesn’t exist. I have to wonder if my dreams are nothing more than an illusion. As long as Fletcher owns Milo, he will also own a part of me.
20
JUST STAY DRUNK
MILO
As a pre-fuck-you … I mean … pre-wedding gift, Fletcher asks Pauline and Jolene to stay at the main house so I can be “in on all final wedding details.” Total bullshit. There’s no way every detail hasn’t already been planned down to the times and locations where I’ll be allowed to take a piss on the special day.
Indie.
He wants help keeping an eye on Indie and me. We’ve been allowed to see each other at breakfast and dinner. That’s it. Jolene drags Indie’s ass around like a designer purse dangling from her arm. And Fletcher works me to the bone from sunrise to dinnertime and for another two hours after dinner—just long enough for Indie to be locked in her ivory tower for the night.
I’ve stopped taking her calls again. It’s torturous to hear her voice, and we’re days from the wedding … I can’t handle it.
Indie: Just use the middle finger emoji if you’re not going to take my call.
Milo: There’s a middle finger emoji? And all this time I thought the blowing a heart kiss emoji was a kiss my ass emoji. Well I’ll be damned.
Indie: Haha. I’m not falling for your humor or any more of your charm. I need to hear your voice.
Milo: Fletcher cut my tongue out.
Indie: It’s not funny. He probably would do that, especially if he knew where your tongue has been. (She ends with a pussy cat and tongue emoji.)
I grin, and my dick stirs a bit in my jeans while I make a late-night sandwich, black as sin, of course.
Indie: Where are you honeymooning?
Milo: We’re not talking about this
Indie: It’s okay. I’m drunk.
Milo: ???
Indie: Whiskey. That expensive shit you and the devil drink. I stole the new bottle before Micah refilled that glass thingy
Milo: Decanter
Indie: Whatever
Milo: Are you still going to Canada this summer?
Indie: Where are you living?
Milo: I hear Canada is beautiful in the summer
Indie: Don’t be a dick. Just answer me
I sigh, taking my burnt grilled cheese to the sofa. Indie’s hell-bent on making herself miserable with the finer details.
Milo: We’re living in the main house for a while.