The Deal Dilemma Read Online Meagan Brandy

Categories Genre: Angst, College, Contemporary, New Adult, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
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Davis reluctantly pulls her attention from me, flicking it their way, but only for a split second.

“Did you touch him?” Anger pricks at my skin. “Let him touch you?”

She says nothing, her frown deepening by the second.

“I asked you a question, Davis.”

“I asked you one first.”

A humorless laugh leaves me, and I don’t realize I’m walking until her arms bend back, pressing onto the countertop behind her.

“If he touched you—”

My chest vibrates with every word, but she shakes her head, so I cut off.

“You touch him?”

Another shake.

“Why did you pick Jess?” she presses on in a whisper, but her eyes…

Goddamn, her big brown eyes are sloped at the edges, a hint of hope flickering just beyond the surface, but it ain’t there for him. It’s for me.

I grip her hips, lift, and set her on the counter, so we’re nearly eye level. “You think I’m done with you?”

Her eyes fall, but I call them right back with a sweep of my knuckle along her jaw.

Gently cupping her left wrist, I bring her bandage to my lips, whispering against it. “You think I’ve had enough?”

That I’ll ever have “enough”?

The uncertainty coloring her cheeks pink about kills me.

“There’s still so much for you to learn, Sweets.” I draw my thumb along her lower lip, pressing hard against it. “So fucking much.”

Tell her you didn’t choose him. Say you want her to stay the fuck away from him.

Tell her you were jealous as fuck, how you saw black and wanted to murder the man, so you had to get out before you did exactly that. Explain how you acted like a dick, so she wouldn’t know the truth, that you want her even though you’re not enough, even though you can’t give her the life she wants and deserves. That you know she won’t choose you, but how you want her to want to keep you, not fuck you and forget you.

Not regret you.

Resent you.

Release you.

I say none of that.

How could I? This is Davis fucking Franco we’re talking about. She’s perfection in the shape of an hourglass and I’m the unsteady surface she’ll fall from, shattering all she is. All she wants. All she could be.

I’m a weight in the water, bound to hold her down.

The taste of warm metal coats my mouth, and I swallow the droplets of blood seeping from my tongue, forcing my clenched teeth to release it.

“So, we’re not done yet?” she dares to ask.

The break in her voice is like a knife to the chest, twisting and tormenting. It’s as if the thought of ending whatever it is we’re becoming pains her as it does me.

Do you ache for me, baby?

Whether she realizes it or not, I don’t know, but her little hand lifts, pressing gently at the center of my ribs.

My forehead finds hers, and she closes her eyes.

“No, Sweets,” I murmur. “We’re not done.”

We’re so fucking far from done.

It was a quarter to three in the morning by the time we got home from the emergency room.

Turned out, in her rush to get to me, Davis tossed the dishes in the sink, breaking a bowl and slicing along the line of her thumb, deep enough to need three stitches.

A hurricane of guilt swallowed me whole as she sat there, trembling in my lap, eyes squeezed closed with fear, as the ER doctor stuck the needle into her skin to numb the area.

I drew her lips to mine, but the guilt eating at my stomach wouldn’t allow me to take them with my own, so I pressed soft kisses to her forehead and held her tight. Thank fucking god, she held me back.

They sent us home with all we’d need to keep it clean, and the minute we walked into the door of the apartment, Davis dropped onto the couch with a blanket, passing out before the hot cocoa she asked for was done. As much as I wanted to drag her to my bed again, I didn’t, not after our little fight, if that’s what it was, and not after she got hurt because of me, so I covered her up and knocked out on the chair beside her.

I thought for sure today she’d be pissy, playing a little game of ignore, but I’m not sure why. I should have known better than that. The girl doesn’t play games, that’s why she showed up at Willie’s. She needed an answer, so she came for it.

She came for me and thank fuck for that.

Problem now is, I don’t want her out of my sight, and to be honest, out of arm’s reach sounds pretty fucking shitty to me too.

I want to reach out and touch her, toy with her in all the wicked ways, but mostly, I’m feeling like a needy little bitch—I just want to hold the girl. In my arms, in my lap, however, so long as she’s close.


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