Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“I’m not a girl at all,” I agree. “I’m a grown woman.”
“That, you are,” he mutters, sounding deep in thought. “I’ve spent the last few years purposefully pulling away from you, and I’ve missed out on getting to know the person you’ve become.”
“I know, but it’s fine. I understand why you did it, and it was better that way. I was young. I needed the boundaries.”
“You’re not young anymore.”
“Don’t be thinking about me in ways you’re not prepared for,” I warn him. “Unless you’re ready to risk it all with Austin, then you need to put those boundaries right back in place. I’m not about to become some dirty little secret.”
“Why not?” he laughs. “Don’t you think it’ll be fun?”
“Izaac!” I scold.
“Alright, alright,” he mutters. “I’ll leave you alone. But tomorrow night, when you’re fucking your new little Tinder date, just know that when he slams inside that sweet little cunt of yours, you and I both know that you’ll be wishing it was me.”
I suck in a gasp, seeing red. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT, IZAAC! I’m gonna kill—”
The line goes dead as I hear the echo of his laugh booming through my skull.
That asshole. I don’t know whether to be mortified or to just laugh. But there’s no denying that he’s right. When it comes to me, there’s only ever been one man that I’ve wanted.
Izaac fucking Banks.
12
IZAAC
Who the fuck gets drunk alone on a Thursday night? This fucking loser.
Since the moment I discovered that I stole Aspen’s virginity, I’ve been a mess. Every fucking line has been crossed. The things that have circled my mind over the past few days would guarantee a death sentence from Austin, but no matter how fucking hard I try, I can’t make it stop.
I need to get a grip. I’m risking everything. The Ryders are my family. They trust me implicitly, and with every passing second that I picture their sweet daughter on her knees, I’m betraying it all.
If Austin knew what happened at Vixen and understood that I had no idea it was Aspen, he might be able to forgive me. It would take time, but he’d eventually come around. But if I were to admit that I haven’t stopped thinking about her since, or if I actually fucked her again, the friendship we’ve built over the past twenty-two years wouldn’t mean a damn thing.
There’d be no coming back from that, so tell me why the hell the thought of Aspen going out on her stupid date tonight is fucking with me so bad?
One date isn’t going to make a difference in how she feels about me. Unless he has a golden cock and a magical tongue gifted to him by the angels of heaven, but even then, her desires will still be with me.
Aspen took me perfectly at Vixen, and she was right on the phone last night, there’s no comparing to something so fucking good. Aspen and I . . . we just fit together. Call me cliché, but it’s as though her body was made just for me. I’ve never had a woman take me so well, and for it to feel that fucking good. Even before I knew it was her, I already considered her to be the best I’d ever had.
Last night over the phone, she boasted about how good her faceless stranger was, how he ruined her for every other man, and no matter how hard she tries to fuck herself with toys, nothing will ever compare. Pure fire flooded my veins as she told me what I already knew. She felt just as good as I did . . . fuck. I don’t even have the words for it.
It was almost impossible to keep my mouth shut, to not roar at the top of my lungs that the man she’s been dreaming of is me. But I stand by what I said. Letting her know would destroy everything.
It’s Friday night, a week since I first got to taste her, and I was supposed to be at Cherry an hour ago, only instead of getting my shit together, I’m pacing my fucking living room and trying to convince myself not to ruin her date.
If she fucks this guy, then that’s her business, but all he’d be doing is using her to get off, and she’s better than that. She deserves so much better. Besides, she knows he won’t fuck her like I could . . . or at least like her faceless stranger would.
A strange desperation pulses through me, and it suddenly occurs to me that I could be . . . no. Surely not. Am I jealous? Is this what it feels like?
Holy fucking shit.
This is not okay.
I’m jealous. And yet, I don’t have a single fucking right to be.
I need to get a grip. I need to get my ass to Cherry and get my shit under control. Only the second I fly out of my home and hit the gas, it’s not my club I’m heading toward.