Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
His words start to melt me like buttuh—and I didn’t think I was the kind of woman who could be so easily swayed.
Dammit!
“And you’re smart,” he goes on. “You’re funny. You make me want to be a better person just by being around you.” Ah, shucks. “I’ve dated plenty of women, sure, but none of them have made me feel the way you do. None of them have made me want to settle down, to build something real.”
I blink, trying to process his words. “And you just realized this today?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s been on my mind a few times and today, well. Today, I just . . . couldn’t ignore it anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending that what we have is casual when it’s anything but, and I honestly don’t want to be friends.”
He doesn’t want to be friends.
He wants . . .
I take in a gulp of air, images of us in bed passing through my brain—the part of me who hasn’t had sex in months making some of these decisions for me. If I were a man, this would be the part where I’m thinking with my dick.
My heart is pounding.
I can feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes. Ugh, not in the parking lot of a movie theater! How inconvenient.
See, the thing is . . . I want to believe Dex, I really do. But it’s hard. It’s so hard to trust when you’ve been let down before. Wyatt’s dad let me down, and sure, he’s there for his child, but I will never, ever, forget how he left me when I was pregnant rather than standing beside me and supporting me.
Dex is not your ex.
Dex is not a boy the way Colton was.
“Dex, I have to protect Wyatt. I know she’s already met you, but I cannot bring someone into her life who’s not going to stick around.” I pull back so I can look him dead in the eyes. “She might be bubbly and outgoing, but trust me, she gets attached quickly.”
“I get that,” he says. “No matter what, we’re friends. What’s the harm in dating and doing things together? Just don’t fall in love with me,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who’s going to fall in love with me.”
His eyes darken. His lips press together with an unspoken . . . something.
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotions. “This isn’t about me. Wyatt comes first, always.”
“What does that mean? You’re going to cancel on me if she has her period?”
“She doesn’t get her period because she is ten, but yes, if she’s sick and we have plans, I would cancel on you. That’s what moms do.”
I can see that he’s fighting for some patience but give him some slack since this is new to him and not something he originally wanted to sign up for.
Such a bad idea.
My girlfriends are always warning me about red flags, only I have no idea if he’s a walking red flag or just a regular one?
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. “Okay. This probably isn’t going to be that easy. Being with me means accepting all of it—the good, the bad, the ugly. It means understanding that sometimes I’m going to be tired and stressed because my students are going to make me bonkers from time to time and I’ll come home and not be the easiest person to be around.”
“The good news is, we don’t live together, so I won’t have to put up with that.”
I stare. “Seriously?”
“Was that the wrong thing to say?” He clearly has no idea.
“Kind of,” I say finally. “We can try this, but . . . if you hurt us, I swear to God I will—”
“I won’t.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise you, I won’t.”
He pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in a hug, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that we can have a future together. A future where Wyatt and I aren’t alone, where we have someone who loves us both and wants to be part of our lives.
Plus, he’s so hot.
Shit.
Stop focusing on how good looking he is, Margot!
Okay, but he is . . .
Then, in the parking lot of the movie theater—where the streetlamps above us are starting to go on, one by one—he pushes my back against my car, sliding his hands to my ass. Squeezes my cheeks in his massive palms before lifting me, pressing his lips on mine.
The cool night air contrasts with the heat of his hands, searing my skin through my thin leggings, making my skin tingle.
We seal our deal with a kiss, one that’s rough and sexy and has the asphalt beneath my feet disappearing.