Maybe Later(83)

“Please, do. I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

“It’s as if he knows I’m close to you.” He sighs, biting the words. I bet he’s as frustrated as I am. “He hates me.”

You’re screwing his daughter, of course, he’s not a fan. I keep that part to myself. “No. He worries about me and asks that I call him when I have a late class. Dad doesn’t hate you.” I want to beg him to stop. I’ve had enough of my father’s words. “Can we forget about him? We don’t have much time together, Michael.”

“Marry me?” He takes my left hand pressing it against his chest.

I pull it out of his grasp, showing him the solitare ring he gave me almost a year ago. “I believe we already went through this ritual. But we could reenact what happened after I said yes.”

I slip off my dress, his mouth parts as his chest heaves—subject forgotten. To assure he won’t mention Dad again, I snap open the pink bra letting my boobs spill out. I grin as his eyes widen, almost falling at the sight.

“Bed,” I order. “We’ll loosen you up in bed and then…you’ll see. Tonight is ours. I bet it’ll be a few months before we can be together again.” My heart slows with those words, why did I have to remind us that we’re going to be apart for a long time?

“I love you, future Mrs. Reynolds.” He lifts me, gently settling me in the middle of the bed, pushing my legs open. “Still on the pill?”

“Of course!” My father would kill me if my boyfriend knocks me up before the wedding. “I’m not ready to have your babies, yet.”

“Wrap your legs around me.” He positions himself right at my entrance, searching for my gaze. Love is all I see, my heart swells at the sight of his loving stare.

“I love you,” he mutters as he sinks into me. “You okay?”

No, I don’t want you to go.

“Perfect,” I lie, smiling at him. “Please, don’t be gentle. Not this round.”

He pulls out and thrusts in hard. My hips match the rhythm as he plunges inside me faster, harder. He cups my left breast, flicking the nipple with his playful tongue. He continues with his ministration. Faster. Harder. Deeper. The energy between us increases, the build up inside me is too much. My body quivers as I explode from the inside out. His speed increases, thrusting three more times before he stops, his limbs shivering and his mouth yelling my name.

“I love you with all my heart, Mike. Promise you’ll come back to me, baby.”

He presses together his lips, closing his eyes.

My heart speeds up, the fear etched in his features sends goose bumps all over my skin. He needs to be okay, he’ll come back.

He lowers his head and kisses my neck. “Always. I’ll always be by your side,” he murmurs, kissing the tear that slides from the corner of my eye. “Be brave, and wait for me.”

“Always.”





Found





All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to choose me.

My mother didn’t.

My father didn’t.

The beautiful boy next door, who grew up to marry me, didn’t. Neither did the next man with whom I thought my heart was safe.



Back in the Bay area, three thousand miles from New York City, I can start fresh. Become one with the sea again, rise or fall on the tide of my own choices. But on the first day of my bright new life, the darkest shadows of my past follow me through my office door.



The two men whose names are definitely not on my five-year plan.



If I let it consume me—my need for one man, my love for the other—the darkness will swallow me whole.

I can’t let that happen.

Not again. This time, the waves of emotion crashing against my heart won’t drown me. This time, I get to choose my happy ending.



You’ll love this breathtaking friends-to-lovers contemporary romance.





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All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother. ― Abraham Lincoln





Scott


“What are the three words that best describe you?” the reporter on the other side of the line asks after I disclose the projected revenues for the next quarter.

I stare at my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking. There are more than three. Committed, resilient, stubborn, impatient, quiet, reserved … I drum my fingers on top of my desk searching for the best words to use in this case.

As a businessman, I’m … “Persistent, fearless and adaptable,” I respond promptly, checking the time. This interview is taking longer than I anticipated.

My brothers would say I’m logical, disciplined, and heartless. They have given me a few nicknames like The Tinman and Ironman.

“Adaptable?” The reporter’s voice carries a hint of curiosity. “I like that word. Would you mind expanding, Mr. Everhart?”

“Well, it’s my policy that our company adapts to the economic, social, and political changes our world experiences, just like we all try to.”

“Would you say that your philosophy is to adapt or die?”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” I ask, not caring how she responds, only how long she takes.