Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Go slow,” she whispered in a shaky voice.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you a—”
She reached for my lips and kissed me as her hips lifted off the bed, forcing me inside of her another inch.
That was it. A tiny moment of doubt. But then she moaned and clawed at my back, kissing me. There were lots of “Oh, gods” and “yeses.” She never told me to slow down or stop.
I dissected that night a million times, looking for something that I had missed.
I wasn’t a spend-the-night kind of guy, but with Everleigh, I no longer knew what kind of guy I was supposed to be.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled, face down on the pillow after I slid out of bed to dispose of the condom.
I grinned. “I won’t.”
When I returned and crawled back into bed, she climbed on top of me, limp like a weighted blanket. I had no objection to sleeping with her breasts pressed to my chest and her legs positioned just so. My dick was inches from finding its new favorite spot.
A few hours later, she stirred, and I reached for another condom on the nightstand.
“Tell me you’ll visit me,” she said, as we moved together.
“I’ll visit you,” I said, not recognizing my voice before I kissed her. God . . . I loved kissing her. Everleigh seemed perfectly suited for me in every way. And I wasn’t that guy because I was a player by nature, or so I thought. I blamed the sex. She couldn’t ask me serious questions while I was inside of her, while my mouth reached for her breast, while her legs wrapped around my waist.
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed. I should go. My thoughts didn’t provoke action because I heard the shower turn off. The door was cracked, and I felt fairly certain she would wrap herself in a towel and return to bed. I lifted my head to see if there was another condom on the nightstand. That’s when her phone chimed from the bathroom.
“Morning, Mom,” she said.
“Hey, sweets. How was the wedding?” She had her mom on speaker. It wasn’t loud, but I could hear if I held still.
“Fun. No hiccups. Victoria looked stunning. Tyler was handsome. The flowers. The food. It was all great.”
“Did you dance with any handsome groomsmen?”
I grinned, rolling onto my side, head propped up on my hand.
“I may have,” Everleigh said.
“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it. Now, let’s get to the important stuff. What are we going to do to celebrate your birthday next month?”
“I have classes. So probably not much.”
“No way. I’ve already booked my flight. I refuse to miss my baby’s eighteenth birthday.”
What. The. Fuck!
I didn’t even think before jumping out of bed at a five-alarm fire speed, gathering my clothes strewn from the entry to the bedroom, not caring if I had everything. Pants, shirt, and shoes were sufficient. The cops would gather the rest before they came to arrest me and throw me in jail for statutory rape.
“Will?” Everleigh poked her head around the corner as I shoved my feet into my shiny rental shoes, sans socks.
My white dress shirt barely covered both shoulders, and my pants were zipped but not buttoned.
“You’re seventeen? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’ll be eighteen next month,” she said as if that made a difference.
Your Honor, she was almost eighteen. What’s thirty days? Me? Oh, yes. I’m twenty-nine. Do I know math? Yes. I’m aware that’s twelve years older.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” My voice boomed, and she flinched. “How are you in medical school?”
“Well, I’m uh . . . smart.”
I grabbed the door handle and shot her a scowl. “Smart? You’re not smart, Everleigh. You’re a fucking idiot. A conniving little liar who’s trying to get me arrested.”
“Will . . .” Tears welled in her eyes.
“No.” I shook my head and flew out the door, slamming it closed behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everleigh
It’s been three months since Will left. He occasionally texts me, but only in response to my texts asking about him and his parents. Sometimes he replies with a thumbs-up emoji, like when I moved out and sent him a photo of my Airstream with my barndominium under construction in the background. I officially have it enclosed and heated.
“Do you have plans for this weekend?” I ask Jamie as we leave the clinic for the day. She has the cutest little baby bump she rests her hand on, but it’s not visible unless she’s in a fitted shirt.
“Will drove down this morning, so we’re doing a Friendsgiving Saturday since Maren and Ozzy have plans for Thanksgiving next week. And Will wants to be home, of course, with his parents. He’ll go home Sunday. His sister and her family have been in Somers this week. They did Thanksgiving early.”