Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
We share it all.
This strange, perfect moment that says he belongs to me.
After tonight, I belong to him forever.
Months later
Let’s get one thing straight—I do not have that much stuff.
So why is moving in with August such a pain?
His house—oh, it’s ours now, isn’t it?—our house is nice. Tons of open, airy space.
And very little storage.
I might not have that much stuff, but I do have a lot of art supplies.
I stand against the window in the guest bedroom, which doubles as my newly converted studio. I’ve already hung my framed original sketches of Kiki the Koala, plus a special original Inky print Clara gifted me.
I’m so insanely glad she never surrendered it to Marissa Sullivan.
Well, Marissa would have had to give it back anyway.
Just last week, August finalized the acquisition and merger of her company. A sobered-up Marissa is now a junior executive at Little Key, managing her own line of children’s books, with her flagship product being—
Me.
Villain to boss. What a twist.
Then again, my whole life has been bonkers for the past six months.
I went from only being on the cover of tabloids as August’s fiancée, famous by proxy, to making headlines as Little Key announced a new coauthor on the newly expanded Inky line.
Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever imagine such a thing, but when Clara Marshall asks, you answer.
I’m barely her apprentice anymore, but her partner. We put her name and Inky back in the headlines, and together we worked up the new product line, new books, the revived and smashingly successful pen pal program.
Then people started asking when I’d put out my own books.
Suddenly, I had shiny new social media shouts. Instead of jealous women calling me the gold-digging whore, I now have people screaming, You’re my kids’ favorite, we love you, please show us more!
I even pitched Kiki the Koala to Marissa. I did it fair and square, because if anyone would reject me instead of being forced to accept it because I’m sharing a bed with the now-permanent CEO, Marissa would do it out of spite.
Look, she’s on the twelve-step programs. Getting sober. Doing well.
She’s actually getting along with her mother, and grudgingly accepting that Clara may end up as her stepmother soon.
She even made amends with Merrick, coughing up the money for his granddaughter’s education, plus enough damages to afford Rick a decent retirement. When he begged August for forgiveness, though, August agreed to let him do occasional deliveries and rides.
Against the odds, all is well again, even with Marissa.
But she can still be one hell of a fire-breathing bitch.
With a little negotiation, though, I had a book deal before I knew it.
A career of my own.
I can’t believe that’s a freaking prototype plushie of Kiki the Koala sitting on my studio desk.
The same plushie that’s about to be in bookstores all over the world.
How did I get here again?
The answer grunts as he stomps into the room and dumps another box in the corner.
“How many sketchbooks do you have?” August demands.
“Enough to keep you sweaty.” I gravitate toward him. He’s gleaming hot, his sleeveless undershirt turned transparent by sweat, his arms streaked in dirt and his ripped jeans riding down low on his hips.
Such a devilishly good look for Mr. Upright.
I hook a belt loop and tug him close.
“Hold up. I almost never get to see you outside of suits, and I’d like to enjoy the view.”
“You rip me out of my suits every night, you little wildcat,” he growls, leaning into me, nearly drowning me in the masculine scent of exertion. The pet name’s not wrong, when just smelling him makes me melt. “You see me out of them plenty often.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of this right now.” I cup his cock through his jeans. He inhales sharply, rising up a little, already swelling against my palm as his eyes narrow.
“. . . wretch,” he growls, hooking me around the waist and dragging me tight against his burning body. “I kissed you ten minutes ago, and you shoved me away and said you had to finish unpacking and answering letters.”
I wince.
I am a little behind on letters to Inky.
Clara and I take turns answering them now, but with the new programs, there are so many that we can barely keep up. At least six of the boxes lining the walls are handwritten letters from all over the world I need to respond to, and that’s got nothing on the email inbox.
I smile up at him innocently.
“Quickie against the wall? We can finish in five minutes.”
“I never finish in five minutes,” he growls, bending to lick the curve of my neck. I’m sweaty, too, and I shiver as the heated moisture on my skin cools as his tongue passes. “I want to lick you clean.”
“August,” I moan, digging my fingers into his shoulders.