Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He smiles. “I just can’t believe this is real.”
I let my knees fall to the sides, giving him a view of my pussy. “Can you come to terms with it while you’re deep inside me? Because I really want to feel your cock.”
He laughs, peeling off his shirt. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Are you complaining?”
He jumps on the bed, covering my body with his. He presses a kiss to my lips and then grins.
“Condom?” he asks.
“Is there anything I need to know about your medical history?”
“No. And I have a report dated last month, if you’d like to review it.”
I lift my hips. “What I’d like is for you to put your cock inside—oh, fuck.”
I don’t get to say another word. He fucks them right out of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Georgia
I curl up on a chair in Ripley’s living room with Waffles on my lap. The T-shirt I found in Ripley’s closet swamps me, since I don’t know where most of my clothes from last night wound up, but I couldn’t risk coming downstairs naked.
Does he have visitors that barge in? One of his brothers? A housekeeper? Cameras?
I have no idea.
The sun peeks up over the horizon, splattering the sky with the softest, prettiest oranges and pinks. It’s a beautiful sunrise after an amazing night.
So why did I wake up feeling nervous?
Because it’s going too well.
Detaching myself from Ripley was hard, but being alone with my thoughts was harder. I’m my own worst enemy sometimes, as ironic as that is. My fear is my problem, and he certainly hasn’t given me a reason to question him since our soul-baring conversation where we shared our truths.
Still, fear is real, and my insecurities don’t help anything.
I turn on my phone camera and look at myself. My lips are swollen, my eyes are tired, and my hair a mess. I look like I’ve been fucked. But I need to record a confessional because I didn’t do it after our filming session last night—a date consisting of playing with Waffles.
I actually think the footage might be the best we’ve done yet.
“Waffles, buddy, I wish I had a filter because I look like shit.”
He doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Typical man.”
I take a deep breath and hope I remember the kind of questions Myla wants us to answer. Then I open the video app and press record.
“Hey,” I say softly, holding the phone up to get my best angle. “It’s morning. I wound up staying overnight last night. I know, I know. Don’t judge me. He can be very persuasive.”
I scratch Waffles’s head just behind his ears.
“This was a curveball that I didn’t see coming,” I admit. “Things have been obviously going well between us, but I’m not the kind of girl who stays all night with a guy this quickly.” I chuckle. “That’s what all the girls say, though, right?”
I blow out a breath, knowing Myla can edit my blips out. Thank God.
“Do you know what the most surprising thing about this whole process is? It’s realizing what your insecurities really are. I’ve met this guy and he’s absolutely amazing. He hasn’t given me a reason to think that his intentions aren’t true. Yet here I sit this morning while he’s in bed, wondering if this is realistic. Like, is this one of those things that’s great right now but I’m goofy to think it’ll really pan out?”
Waffles snores, making me grin.
“That’s really unfair, you know? To both Ripley and to me. But how do you have the courage to hope for things? Hell, I barely hope for clean socks in the mornings. Hoping that a love connection might be real? Terrifying.”
I gaze out the window, taking in the beauty of Mother Nature.
“I guess that’s all for me this morning.”
I turn the camera off and go back to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Georgia
“Okay,” Ripley says, taking a look around the kitchen. “I have all the cameras set up.”
“This is going to work much better than our half-assed film job last night. Although, I do think that footage is gold.”
He pulls me to him, kissing the top of my head. “It was fun. Waffles did steal the show though.”
True.
“I filmed a confessional this morning,” I say.
“You did? When?”
“I came downstairs for a while and let Waffles out to pee. The sunrise was gorgeous, so I sat for a while and watched it.”
He smiles against my cheek before letting me go.
“That’s okay, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Of course, it’s okay. Don’t be silly.” I reach for one of the cameras we positioned around the kitchen. “I’ll turn this one on. You get the other two.”
“Got it.”
“And remember. You can’t just fondle me and kiss me the whole time,” I say, laughing. Myla is going to have to cut so much out of last night’s footage.
Ripley groans as he presses record on the camera by the sink, and the one in the corner. I turn on the camera by the pantry.