Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Why can’t you always be like this? Warm. Kind. Sweet. It kinda makes me want to like you, but only like a little tiny bit,” I say, my eyes getting heavier by the second. Sleep threatens to pull me under, but I fight against it, refusing to let this moment between us end.
“I wouldn’t do that. It’ll be easier if you hate me when this is all over. I’m not cut out as boyfriend material.”
I won’t lie, my heart aches a little at his statement, but it’s not shocking. I’ve known what Drew’s intentions were this whole time, but now things are changing because my feelings are getting involved.
I decide to change the subject and say instead, “Who was that watching us?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Probably someone wanting to gather intel to share with my father.”
“What does that mean? Why would anyone want to tell your father what you’re doing?” I’m confused by his comment but too exhausted to piece it all together right now.
“It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep, Bel.” He huffs like he’s frustrated with my pestering.
“I’m sorry.” I yawn. “I keep telling myself not to care about you, but I can’t. Somehow, I always end up back where I was before.” I let my eyes drift closed, and just as I’m about to sink into the darkness, I swear I hear him whisper, “Me too.”
CHAPTER 23
DREW
After spending the majority of the night with Maybel, holding her while she slept, watching every twitch of her face, I forced myself to leave and headed home at around five o’clock. It was the first time I ever spent the night with a woman, the first time I held one in my arms while they slept. It felt good but foreign. Maybe that’s what I needed because today, I feel calmer than I have in a long time. Like this heavy weight on my shoulders has finally lifted.
I recall assessing her body when I removed her clothing and tucked her into bed. The bruises on her hips and the bite marks on her shoulder. I was rougher than I intended to be, but she fought me so fucking good. I'm so fucking proud of her.
There’s just something that happens when I’m around her… like she’s looking at me, not through me, not for me, but at me. Not seeing what she wants from me but me the man. The feeling is heady, dragging me into her orbit in ways I don’t understand yet. I’m not sure I want to try to understand it.
I smile and roll on the bed, already hard thinking back on the memory. When I'm about to grip myself and relieve this ache already growing in my balls, my phone rings. I glance at the screen and consider throwing it at the wall.
"Fuck."
My father. My dick deflates instantly, not surprising. My father has that effect on people. I dread answering the phone. It’s always one thing or another with him. I’ll never be what he wants. Never be perfect enough.
I sigh and regretfully answer. He's always more pissed if he has to call me back. It takes me a second of breathing to speak, but before I get the chance, his voice cuts across the line, sharp as a whip and twice as painful.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Andrew?" I hate when he calls me Andrew, and he fucking knows it.
I flop over onto my back and stifle a yawn. "Should I know what you’re referring to this time?"
There's a huff through the line. "Fucking watch the tone. Yes, you fucking should. Last night, at the carnival, where were you?"
I sit up and glare at the wall. "How do you know I wasn't there all night?" I already know the answer. It had to be the mysterious person standing outside Bel’s window while I fucked her. Or it could be Sebastian.
"Because the fucking profit margin from the carnival, the one that is supposed to raise half of The Mill's annual charity donation, was exceedingly short, and you know who the alumni board will expect to make up the difference? Me."
Of course it boils down to money. It's always about money with him. "What do you want me to say, Dad? I was there for my time at the dunking booth, then I rode the Ferris wheel. It was dark when I left and went home."
A long moment of silence passes, and I wait, holding my breath. He doesn't want to hear me talk or defend myself anyway, and I'm getting so fucking sick and tired of these little phone conversations we seem to keep having after every event.
I think back to him calling the first time too. Who the fuck is talking to him? Funneling information into his ear?
"I see. Looks like you have fucking answers for everything, don't you? How about you explain to me what's going on with your grades? Do you have an answer for that?"