Can I Come Over?(14)

I felt guilty for staring at her, for briefly wondering what those red stilettos would look like if they were wrapped around my waist, but I quickly snapped out of it and called her over.

She’d been fine at first—her typical detached yet friendly self, but then she stared at my whiteboard for several seconds and began acting strange.

Her entire demeanor changed…

Her eyes went wide and she blushed all over, nearly tripping over herself as she took a step back. And then she—

My entire world stopped.

Bella had shown up. She was Christina.

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

“Oh! Hey!” Michael’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I’ve got to go. The nurses are telling me that it’s time. Talk to you later.”

I ended the call, still in utter fucking shock that I’d been talking to my best friend’s daughter this entire damn time.

A part of me wanted to believe that this couldn’t be real. Bella wasn’t really Christina. The other part of me wanted to accept it and confront her about it. And well, do a lot more than that…

I lit a Cuban cigar and took my time smoking it, mentally walking through the past seven months. I lit another, this time with two more shots of scotch—with my thoughts constantly swinging back and forth with the pros and cons of addressing her.

By nine thirty, I decided to open the app and send her a message, but she beat me to it.



Letter Topic: Re: Our Meet Up Today

Dear Ryan,

I guess I have to finally come clean and reveal the ruse.

Regarding your previous message, you’re right. I do owe you the truth, and it’s exactly what you wrote in option two.

I’m not who I said I was, and the clock has indeed run out.

For the record, I truly enjoyed getting to know you better and I enjoyed your letters more than anyone else’s on this app. (And I did consider you to be a great friend of mine.)

I don’t expect a response, and I won’t send you another letter.

Sincerely,

Bella





ELEVEN





Bella/Christina





Why did it hurt to send him that email?

My chest felt as if it was on fire, and my heart and my brain were swinging on a pendulum of lust and shame. I felt like I was losing a good friend by letting Dane go, but I knew it was better to walk away from him now instead of waiting until I returned home.

Downing a huge glass of wine, I tried to focus on something else—anything else, but it was no use.

So far, the only thing that came out of this loss—the one thing that was helping to soothe the pain a little better, was his cock picture. I’d written five new sex scenes by using it as a means of inspiration while I was stuck in this room.

And last night, while I lay in bed, I stared at his picture and used it as a muse. I shamelessly rubbed my clit as I envisioned him sliding his tongue against my pussy and making me say his name.

Welp. Time to write another sex scene.

I opened my laptop and uncorked my second wine bottle for the night. As I was opening the document for Strangers in Spokane, a heavy knock sounded at my door.

“Coming, coming!” I buttoned my shirt and grabbed a few dollar bills from my nightstand.

This hotel had a great eye for service; they brought me fresh wine glasses every few hours as if they knew I was committed to drinking for my entire stay.

I walked over to the door and opened it. “Thank you so much for—” My words stalled in my throat at the sight of Dane.

“Hello, Bella,” he said, his voice deep.

I gasped, unable to say anything else when he was standing so close to me. His lips were curved into a smirk, and his beautiful eyes were locked on mine.

Looking even sexier than he did yesterday, he was wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his chest muscles and dark blue jeans that showed off his perfectly carved “V” again.

We stood staring at each other for several seconds, neither of us making a move, neither of us finding the right words to say.

“Hello, Ryan…” was all I could think to utter. My nipples hardened under my blouse as he licked his lips, and my panties were already soaking wet.

“Are you going to make me stand out here?” he asked. “Or, are you going to let me into your room so we can talk?”

“I’m not sure.” My heart raced as he stepped closer, closing the gap between us. “I don’t think there’s anything that either of us needs to say right now…”

“You’re right.” He suddenly pressed his lips against mine, kissing me senselessly within seconds. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist—slowly stepping forward as I stepped back into the room.

The door slammed shut behind us, and he pushed me against a window.

“Ahhh…” I moaned as he used his hips to pin me still.

He bit down hard on my bottom lip and sucked it between his teeth when I tried to control our kiss. Giving me a look that said, “Don’t try that again,” he slid his tongue against mine, taking full control of my mouth.

I grabbed fistfuls of his hair as he continued dominating me.

His kiss followed a fast and reckless rhythm that I didn’t understand, but I never wanted him to stop playing it.

He suddenly tore his mouth away from mine and tore open my shirt, sending the buttons flying all over the room. Pressing his lips against my neck, he slowly sucked my skin and teasingly bit me—giving me long, deep kisses that were certain to leave a mark.