Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
How can I trust that I’m meant to be this lucky? That we’ll actually have a future?
But I don’t dare say these things out loud.
Tonight, I’m too dazzled by the rockets bursting in the sky and starlit green eyes that hold more secrets than the endless dark ocean stretching as far as we can see.
I reach for his big hands and squeeze until my fingers go numb.
“I can’t lose you,” I whisper. “If I paint what I feel...I’d never paint anything again.”
“Won’t happen, babe,” he promises, assuring me with a kiss so hot it curls my toes. “If I don’t come home, permission granted for you to find me and kill me again.”
I giggle, pushing at his chest. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Yeah. Neither does thinking I’d ever fucking leave you, baby. Even unwillingly, I’ll still come back and haunt your ass. Remember that movie Ghost?”
I shake my head fiercely, smiling at how crazy he is.
“That scene with the pottery or whatever? That’s me with your paints. Except I’d never leave, and I’d use my spooky powers to tie you down and paint every damn inch of you.”
“It’s official,” I say.
“What?”
“You are crazy. Do you hear yourself, Chris?”
He blinks slowly and gives me this huge boyish grin. “I do. And you’re gonna have me committed before you’re done hearing all the ways I come up with to tell you I fucking love you, babe.”
Oh, God.
Why is he this good at demolishing my heart?
I’m still wondering as he cups my face, tilts it to his, and drinks me in so long and deep with his tongue.
Those fireworks start resembling stars as they pepper the sky with their grand finale.
* * *
One hot day in late July, Chris takes me out after I come in from the pool that evening.
He’s strategically waiting in my shower, naked and huge and glorious.
We take our sweet time getting ready together, a drawn-out daytime quickie with so many kisses and soft touches in the wake of his storm.
Every day we’re together just pulls me deeper into his gravity.
Also, I have to hand it to him, he knows some lovely little places, hidden gems just outside the city.
They aren’t the usual boujee eateries trying to be a hypermodern fusion of four different cuisines—nothing like the high-end watering holes I’m used to—but they’re quaint and real.
Even the patrons look livelier than the younger rich crowd I’m usually with. Almost like they’re actually listening to each other and laughing at real jokes rather than eye-fucking their next fling for the night.
Marnie replies to the text I sent her earlier, and she shows up a little while after we’re seated with her latest boy toy.
I honestly can’t tell if he’s the same big, tanned bodybuilder from the beach or someone new.
Marnie’s men are always tall, broasted, and basic as rocks.
“So did you get that jackoff professor off your ass yet, girl?” She flashes me a perfect white smile. I watch big boy glance down at the thong she’s probably got sticking out behind her for emphasis.
Ass is right.
Not that I like to judge.
Chris listens in politely, keeping one hand on my thigh under the table. He’s dangerously close to signaling to my best friend that I’m not just being lame and hanging out with my stepbrother because I can’t find a real date.
“It’s moving,” I say with a sigh. “Finally got my thesis done and the outline mapped out. Now I’m past the intro and drafting the real meat of the thing.”
“Yeah?” Marnie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Damn! Way to get a jump start. You keep that up, and you’ll be coasting to graduation.”
“Ugh, I wish.” I try not to shudder. “I’m sure this is draft one of a dozen or more.”
“C’mon, if you’re putting in a ton of work, I know it slaps. What are you gonna call it?” she asks, sipping some neon-pink liquid from a glass so bright it looks like it should have a hazmat sign on it.
“Fear Itself: The Life of a Modern Mercenary,” I say, wincing a little because I’m afraid it sounds way too pretentious.
But Marnie claps her hands. Even the big man next to her gives me an approving grin.
“I love it!” she shouts.
“You don’t think it’s too—”
“Delia, shut it. It’s pompous and flashy—the right kind of snotty academic-speak the guy grading you will probably have wet dreams about. Hey, Erik, why don’t you go over to the bar and grab us another round? I don’t want to wait for the waitress,” Marnie says with a pout.
She passes the boy toy her empty glass, smiling like a shark.
He gets up with a shrug and gladly does as he’s told.
Oof.
I’m not sure if it’s just Marnie’s overbearing style, or if she gets some weird thrill out of bringing these men to their knees.
“So how does it feel to be my girl’s muse?” She turns to Chris. “I know you’ve been helping with the paper, mostly, but has she like painted you naked yet?” Marnie bats her eyes, leaning forward with her hands folded under her chin.