The Arrangement – Brewer Family Read Online Adriana Locke

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
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“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve seen it between my mom and me, and I’ve experienced it with Mimi. That’s all. Because from what I’ve seen, love between two adults is so transaction-based. It’s all about filling a role in the other person’s life and not this undying selflessness toward someone. At least, I’ve never seen that in real life.”

My breath stalls in my throat as I focus on her words. “It’s all about filling a role in the other person’s life and not this undying selflessness toward someone.” That’s exactly what we’re doing here. We’re filling a role in the other person’s life via a transaction.

The idea that she sees me like every other man in her life bothers me. A lot. I don’t want to feed into her wound. I want to fix it. I want to heal her by loving her sacrificially and by showing her that love isn’t a burden.

Loving her is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

“I think that kind of love exists,” I say.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what all the men I’ve encountered have done,” she says. “I’m only concerned with one man right now.”

Her tongue darts along her bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail behind.

Fuck.

She stretches backward until her shirt slips up her stomach, displaying her smooth skin just below her tits. As she lowers her arms, she catches me watching her and grins.

“What do you say we call it a night and go to bed?” she asks coyly.

I chuckle. “There’s no way I’m getting in bed with you right now.”

“Why?”

I place my hand on my lap and squeeze my jeans around my hard cock. Her gaze drops to it and then back to me.

“And how is that a problem?” she asks.

“Because I’m not touching you until we’re married. I told you that.”

She groans. “We’re not taking serious vows, for crying out loud. What does it matter?”

It matters to me because I don’t want her to look back on this and think it was a joke. Even though it is technically a bet, and the premise of this isn’t exactly love, if I can figure out how to make her fall in love with me, I want her to reflect on this day and know I was in love with her even now. And if that doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t.

“Fine,” she says, standing. She faces me and slides her sweater off her shoulders. “You don’t have to touch me. But what if I touch you?”

I want to tell her no—to hold firm to my decision not to make this physical until tomorrow after we’re married. But the way she’s looking at me makes it really fucking hard.

My knees spread farther apart, and I reach up, unable to help myself. I keep my hands on the outside of her skirt and grab her ass, guiding her to sit on my lap.

I hiss as her pussy sits against me, and her tits are in my face. This was a terrible, amazing move. She pushes her weight down and smiles as if she won a battle.

A battle, maybe. But not the war.

“This is the closest you’re going to get until tomorrow,” I say, groaning as she rocks against me. The heat of her pussy radiates through the denim covering me. I grab her hips and try to hold her still. “You should stop.”

Instead, she leans forward, breathing against my lips. “What if I don’t want to?”

Dammit.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I take the hem of her shirt and drag it up. She lifts her hands as it rises and tosses it to the floor.

“Who knew you’d be such a troublemaker?” I ask.

The tops of her breasts round above the cups of her bra, jiggling with every move she makes. The white lace covers her dark nipples. It’s a good thing, or else they’d probably be in my mouth.

“Is this a dream?” I ask as she grinds against me. I clench my teeth and try not to come in my pants.

Her fingers wind through the hair on the back of my head, and she presses my face forward—into her cleavage.

“It could be a wet dream if you let it,” she whispers.

My body buzzes. My cock strains so hard against my jeans that it hurts. With every push, circle, and slide of Chloe’s pussy against it, it threatens to burst.

“I’m dying to know how wet you are.” I drag my tongue beneath the lace and over the top of her chest. Her skin is silky and sweet, making me crave her taste elsewhere.

She moans, pulling her bra down to expose her hard buds.

“Fuck, Chloe,” I say, my restraint faltering.

She moves my head toward her again, and I drag one nipple into my mouth. She rocks harder against me, tilting her clit to move against the rough denim.


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