Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Open those eyes,” he whispers, then bites my neck.
I do, and when I glance at him with hooded eyes, his green ones don’t leave mine. He wants to see it all, watch me as I start to come undone. And I don’t feel the need to look away, to feel embarrassed or ashamed. No, this feels amazing. It’s as if I am all that he wants right now.
“That’s it,” he says, leaning in and giving me an open-mouthed kiss as I come. I kiss him back, and he lets go of my hands and grips my ass to keep me from falling while he keeps fucking me.
I like being fucked by August Trouble.
Very much so.
He left me to shower alone, and when I step out, I find my clothes sitting on the sink. I get dressed quickly and head downstairs to find him making himself a sandwich in the kitchen.
“You want one?”
“No, I should be going…”
“Bye.”
One word.
That’s all he says.
One single word.
Then he turns his bare back to me. There’s a towel wrapped around his waist, hiding that gorgeous ass from me, but I can see the outline.
I make my way to the door but stop before I open it. When I peek back over my shoulder, he’s watching me.
“Don’t make it out to be more than what it was, rich girl. It was just sex.”
“It was,” I lie.
He smirks as if he knows I’m lying. Grabbing my keys from my handbag, I pull it over my shoulder and turn to leave. The whole drive home, my mind replays every single scene, as if it’s a movie playing rent-free in my head.
Was that a stupid thing to do? I mean, technically, it’s only been a few weeks since I split from Anderson, even though I’d been trying to get rid of him for a lot longer. I was with Anderson for years, so shouldn’t I feel like this is all kinds of wrong?
I know I shouldn’t be moving this fast.
I need to slow things down.
But oh my God, the sex was so good.
Fuck.
On the drive home, I am constantly in my head. The visions of August fucking me won’t leave me. After what feels like only a few seconds, I arrive home and pull into the driveway, jump out of my car, and run inside.
“Rylee.”
I pause at my sister’s voice.
I didn’t even notice she was there when I stepped into our apartment.
She looks me up and down and the tips of her lips turn up into a wide grin. “Where have you been?” She wiggles her eyebrows as if she already knows the answer to the question.
“I need to sleep,” I reply, totally ignoring her question.
“I think I know who made you so tired. Oh, by the way, your Indian came. I guess you got so busy, you forgot about it.” She yells the last part as I walk into my room, shutting the door.
Rhianna has a larger room, but that doesn’t faze me. Living here means everything to me. I can do whatever I want whenever I want and not worry about coming home late or being concerned I may wake my parents.
I’m not sure why I waited so long to move out. It seems I needed a wake-up call, and Anderson has supplied that in bucketloads. I simply had to build the strength to displease my parents without having that fact weigh on my conscience too heavily.
Working in the family business makes this all the harder, but I had to build the fortitude and simply go for it. Now, I breathe easier, knowing I don’t have to deal with their disapproval and criticism of absolutely everything I do. Sure, I hear it at work, but at least I get a breather when I’m home. Living with Rhianna has so many perks, and I finally feel free—free from my parents and free from Anderson—free to live my life any way I want. And the feeling of freedom is so liberating.
“Beckham called. He’s coming to spend the day with you tomorrow.” She bangs on my door as I close my eyes.
He’s been away for the last week at camp, and now he’s back. I’m guessing because I’m not home, he needs to discuss what happened.
I love my brother.
When Rhianna moved out, Beckham and I grew closer.
He trusts me with the secrets he doesn’t tell anyone, and I appreciate him and help where I can.
My phone dings next to me, and when I go to reach for it, I see Anderson’s name flash across the screen.
Goddammit! I turn it off because I do not need him ruining a perfectly good night.
Instead, I go to sleep with dreams of August.
“Wake up.” Banging on my door rouses me from sleep. I somehow manage to slide out of bed and pull it open to see Beckham standing on the other side, dressed in his football jersey and some jeans. I let him in, and we walk back to my bedroom and lie on my bed.