Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s going to be the death of me. “I’m not fucking you tonight.”
She arches her back and moans. “Why not?”
“Because you’re right. I’m not at my best right now, and I’m going to need to be at one hundred percent when I finally fuck you, Savvy.”
Her breathing hitches, and she’s quiet for a few beats. “Is that a promise?”
Drawing in a breath, I curl my fingers inside her, searching for the spot that will bring her to the brink. Because I can’t make promises. Never before have I cared about breaking them, but I care with her.
“Oliver.”
I’ve never loved the sound of my name more than in this moment—ragged and desperate, as if she’s clinging to the edge and about to lose control.
“I’ve got you. Just take it. Take what you need.”
She does, riding my hand. Fuck. She feels good. Hot and slick.
“Oliver. God . . .”
Then she’s there. Arching. Crying out. I keep my fingers buried inside her, not letting her run from the pleasure. Guiding her to ride out every last wave.
“Jesus. That was . . .”
“You better now?” I ask. She can probably hear it in my voice—the lust, the ache. My cock is throbbing because she feels so fucking good.
I want her almost as much as I want better for her.
She laughs. “Yeah. You could say that.”
I kiss her shoulder then roll to my back. “Goodnight, Savvy.”
SAVVY
When I wake up, Oliver is already out of bed.
I smooth the sheets on his side and stretch happily. After weeks of tension between us, our chemistry was combustible last night.
I hear him in the kitchen, talking quietly. Eddie must still be here. I roll out of bed and grab the joggers I was wearing last night, tugging them on.
“It’s not really your business what I do with my car, is it?” Oliver says. “Well, the title was in my name. I had every right to sign it over.”
I straighten. Are he and Eddie fighting? About the Viper?
His voice gets louder. “Call her a whore again and see what happens.”
My stomach twists. Whoever he’s talking to, I have no doubt they’re talking about me.
“Fuck off, old man. You weren’t around the first sixteen years of my life. I don’t see why you need to be around now.”
A door slams, and I flinch.
Swallowing, I step into the hall and peek down toward the living room. I don’t see anyone inside, but Oliver is on the balcony, his back to me, his hands white-knuckling the rail.
I head that way, frowning when I see his phone in the middle of the living room floor—like it’s been thrown there.
A door opens behind me, and I spin around to see Eddie emerge from the hallway bathroom. He glances worriedly toward Oliver. “Don’t let him know you heard that,” he says. “He’s a private person, but when it comes to his father, he’s irrationally so.”
“That was his dad?”
His dad called me a whore?
“Don’t let it bother you. He’ll say anything to control Oliver.”
“I understand,” I say. But I don’t understand, and I feel small. Smaller than I did the night the girls at work called me that.
“Cool. Listen, thanks for letting me have the couch last night.”
“Of course.” I swallow. Call her a whore again and see what happens. “I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. I hope so. You’re good for him.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I force a smile and wave goodbye.
By the time I’m showered and dressed for my classes, Oliver is back in the living room. He’s sitting on the couch and scowling at his phone.
I’m not Prince Charming, and this isn’t a fairy tale.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
He’s obviously upset about something, but if Eddie thinks I shouldn’t bring up the phone call, I won’t. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
No. I’m not okay. You touched me last night but then didn’t let me touch you. You said you wanted me and kissed me like I was your everything, but now you’re back to pushing me away. “Are we going to talk about last night?”
He finally tears his gaze from his phone to look at me. He cocks a brow. “What’s there to talk about? You asked me for something, and I gave it to you.”
“Don’t be crass. Don’t try to make me feel dirty.”
He stands and tosses his phone on the couch before prowling toward me. “I leave in five weeks. I’m not trying to hurt you, but I’m doing a shitty job of it. There’s nothing about last night that should make you feel dirty.” He’s so close, and I keep expecting him to touch me. But he doesn’t. “I wanted to make you feel good, and now I’m ruining it because I see the way you look at me. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m not the guy you think I am.”