Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Did it… work? she texts.
I’m panting, chest heaving, my head flowing with thoughts of her.
It did, but I wish I had exploded in your tight virgin pussy instead. I can’t wait to see you.
CHAPTER 20
Alice
“You’re a couple now?” Natasha asks over the phone.
I sit in our living room, pushing the phone with too much pressure against my ear. It’s the tightness in my little sister’s voice, as though I’ve stolen her boyfriend from her, which makes no sense…
I get it. She had a crush.
But what if it was more than a crush? What if she felt the instant attraction, the need for the future like I did?
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “We’ve talked about having kids, about being together. I think that makes us a couple.”
Natasha pauses.
It’s been a day since she left, a frantic day in which people have been emailing me for interviews.
Our address hasn’t leaked yet, which means there are no paparazzi outside the apartment building, but it’s only a matter of time.
Honestly, I don’t care about any of that.
I care about nothing except that Weston is on his way here now.
He’s back on the West Coast.
I don’t need rest, he texted when I suggested he might. I just need you.
“Okay,” Natasha says after a pause. “I’ll need to talk to you when I get back. But I want you to know… no hard feelings, okay?”
Her voice trembles, like she’s about to cry, making me wonder if she’s saying this for my benefit and doesn’t mean it.
“You go after your future. You deserve it.”
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” she replies, with another tremble in her voice.
After hanging up, I go into my bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a black dress with a lacy upper section, showing a glimpse of my cleavage… it’s a dress I bought a year ago, knowing I’d never have the confidence to wear it.
But Weston’s text flooded me with the confidence I needed.
I’d tell you to wear something sexy, but you could wear anything, and it would drive me feral. It’s you I want, not an outfit. That said….
I took the hint, and now I run a hand through my hair, making it messy in the way he says he likes. I’m not wearing any makeup.
I wonder if I should be, but then my phone buzzes.
I’m downstairs.
This is it, I tell myself, as I walk on dreamy legs and try to focus on one step at a time.
This is it – the moment it all shatters, the prank is revealed, the trick, the joke. But I don’t believe Weston is capable of that kind of senseless cruelty.
He’s waiting for me outside, leaning against a sleek black sedan with tinted windows.
I’m wearing a coat over my outfit, but that doesn’t stop him from surging across the street, his body expanding in the casual T-shirt, his groin seeming to bulge despite the denim trapping him.
He stops a foot or so away from me, staring down.
“Is something wrong?” I ask softly.
“No. I just want to remember this moment forever. The first time I saw you after we shared the truth. After we knew… we’re forever.”
He leans down, guiding his lips to mine. When his hands stroke around my side, it’s like I’m wearing nothing, as though his blazing touch is pushing against my bare skin.
I whimper as he grabs me tightly, pulling me close to him.
Our lips connect in a fury of want.
I moan as I feel the nerves begin to uncoil inside me, thoughts of my virginity slipping away as he pushes firmly against me.
My arms raise, and wrap around him, as I stand on my tiptoes, and know I’ll remember this moment forever too.
“Holy shit, that’s the woman he was talking about?”
Weston and I stop kissing and turn to find several men standing nearby.
I’m sure I’ve seen them before, but it’s difficult to tell in this neighborhood since so many people seem to spend all day roaming around, drinking out of brown paper bags, hanging out, and doing not much of anything.
I count four of them, and the tallest is almost Weston’s height. He’s wide-shouldered and wears a leather jacket, a mean twist to his lips.
“Weston fucking Wyatt, eh? And you chose her?”
I feel the tension move through Weston with his hand on my hip.
I place my hand on his arm and squeeze gently, silently telling him to let it go.
The men are drinking but don’t seem drunk yet. It’s only seven PM.
“Is there a problem?” Weston says calmly, taking a few steps toward them.
“Weston,” I hiss. “There’s too many….”
He ignores me, walking right up to the men.
“I asked you a question,” he says, staring the leader right in the face.
I can hear the clash of emotions in my man’s voice.
These men are trying to ruin a moment that will be special to us forever, our first in-person contact after the revelation, which is unacceptable to him.