Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Besides, I want him to stay. We can start talking about divorce tomorrow.
THIRTEEN
Sophia
Worth’s phone goes off again as soon as we’re through the door. He flashes me the screen, wanting to reassure me that it’s Avril again and no one wanting a sample of his dick—not that I could blame them.
“Take it,” I say. “She obviously wants to talk to you. I can get unpacked while you do.”
He scoops a hand around my waist and pulls me toward him, placing a kiss on my forehead. He answers the phone.
“Avril. Unless you’re going to tell me you’re now off academic probation, there’s nothing to talk about.” He listens for a second. “You’re pregnant?” he bellows into the phone, and I wince, taking my two suitcases into the spare bedroom to unpack everything. My apartment is less than five hundred square feet, so it’s not like I can’t hear him, but there’s an illusion of privacy. “Are you fucking ser—” He stops mid-sentence, obviously listening to something his sister is saying. “Well, an Ivy League education isn’t teaching you the definition of what a joke is. Maybe you need to go look it up. Because giving your brother a heart attack isn’t funny.”
I press my fingers to my lips to stop myself from laughing. He sounds like he’s a dad chastising his daughter, not a brother talking to his sister. Worth lowers his voice and they fall into easy conversation while I unpack. When I take out the black cocktail dress I married Worth in, a frisson of excitement runs through my body. I never thought my wedding dress would look like that.
“Sorry about that.”
I spin and Worth is in the doorway. He runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired.
“Let me make you a drink. Or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Or we could order in?”
He checks his watch. “It’s nine. Let’s order.”
“Sure, what do you like?”
“You,” he responds, and my smile unfurls like a flower under the attention of the sun.
“To eat,” I admonish him.
“You,” he replies. It’s his turn to smile now.
“Door Dash doesn’t deliver me. You pick something. I’m going to shower.”
He growls as he scrolls on his phone. “Want company?”
“Next time. I’m really hungry.”
In twenty minutes, we’re sitting opposite each other at the bistro table and chairs Jules bought when we first moved in.
“Is this weird for you?” I ask. I wonder if he has a chef to cook for him. He’s bound to have a housekeeper.
“What?”
“Being in this tiny apartment and sitting around a table that’s as small as a postage stamp. I’ve been to Jules and Leo’s place—”
Worth laughs. “My place isn’t like Jules and Leo’s. Although, who knows how long they’ll be there.”
“You think they’ll move?” I ask.
“It doesn’t seem to be the kind of place Jules would call home.”
I burst into laughter. “No, considering she used to call this place home.”
“I mean the look and feel of it. Where they live now feels like Leo’s apartment. It’s got nothing to do with size or how… fancy it is.” Worth shrugs. “After my dad died, we couldn’t afford much.”
“How did he die?”
“It was a traffic accident. Drunk driver.”
“And they were so small, they don’t really remember him?” I have so many incredible memories of my dad, it’s difficult to fathom what life would have been like without him. Even though he wasn’t with us all the time, when he was, he was at the center of our world. I can’t imagine not having that.
“No, from their perspective, they grew up in a single-parent household with an annoying older brother.”
“I bet they don’t think you’re annoying,” I say.
“I’m sure they’ll tell you themselves when they meet you.”
“Did you work it out with your sister?”
“I’m meeting her tomorrow so we can formulate a plan. God, I hope she’s not trying to drop out. She’s so close to graduating.”
I take this opportunity to get up and put myself in his lap. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he replies.
“So… you wanna make out?” I ask him, my eyes dropping to his lips and back up to his eyes.
“Yeah, I wanna make out,” he whispers, pulling my shirt up and over my head and running his hands over my bra. “This is pretty.”
It’s my nicest bra, bought in a Saks sale at seventy percent off thanks to my employee discount. It still cost me a fortune. “Thanks. It’s Italian.”
He reaches around my back and snaps the clasp open, then takes his time dragging the straps down my arms. He sets the pile of lace aside gently, always considerate, then pulls my legs to either side of his thighs.
We’ve been here before.
“I’m naked,” I say.
“Not naked enough.” He cups my breasts, pushing them up, squeezing my nipples. I feel myself getting wet. I’m just so ready for this guy all the time. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, licking and grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin until I’m writhing on his lap, grinding myself against him. He’s hard through the denim of his jeans and I’m impatient for him. I need him so deep that I can’t think about anything other than catching my breath. I arch my back at the thought that it won’t be long.