Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
He opens the door, ducking down slightly so he can see me. “Hello, Ayla.”
Thank God I’m wearing a padded bra, because this first time Flynt utters my name in his smoky rasp, my nipples turn to hard little pegs. I reach for the hem of my skirt and tug it down automatically, but it’s still too short to reach my knees. Does he notice my thighs trembling?
“H-hey. Hey, Flynt.”
He coughs into his fist, his eyes closing momentarily. Because I said his name?
Then he steps back and swipes a hasty hand through his hair. “What do you need?”
“Um…” Stop being a coward, I berate myself, and finally climb out of the car. He watches me under hooded eyelids, his chest swelling, and I get the feeling he wants to surge forward. Pin me against the side of the car. But that might be my nerves wreaking havoc on my imagination. I’ve never been alone with a member of the opposite sex before. “I b-backed into a pole at the library.”
He stops breathing. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head rapidly and the tension seeps out of him. “No. Not at all.” I walk toward the bumper, his bootsteps following behind me. “I don’t know what happened. I know that pole is there. I tried to stop, but…I think my foot must have slipped.” Oh God. Seeing the dent in the dim, yellowish light of the garage makes it look ten times worse. To my horror, liquid heat creates pressure on the backs of my eyes, a chill blowing down my spine. “This was my mom’s car. I should have been more careful. I should have been paying attention.” I look up at Flynt. “But I braked. I know I did.”
He stares at me for long moments, before slowly shaking his head. “My angel doesn’t cry.” His right hand lifts, hovering over my face for several beats, explosions taking place behind his eyes. Then his thumb slides across my cheek, collecting moisture in one, warm sweep. “My angel comes and tells me her problems and I fix them. It’s about time you figured that out.”
two
Flynt
Control yourself.
I repeat those two words to myself day in and day out. Whether Ayla is in the vicinity or not, I must concentrate on my behavior. Focus on reining in these impulses that apply only to her. Impulses that feel as though they’ve existed in me since the beginning of time.
Get inside of her.
Get her pregnant.
Claim her forever.
I should be ashamed of myself. The thoughts I have about this innocent fantasy novel enthusiast in her knee socks, driving her sensible Volvo around town, clutching her science textbook to her chest when she walks down the hallway, no idea I want to carry her out of the school over my shoulder and take her in a field, her ankles pressed back to her ears.
They’re sick, my thoughts.
Worse, they’re hereditary.
That’s why I have to resist them at all costs.
Thank God there is another, more powerful force inside of me that helps keep the dark hunger at bay. Love. I’ve loved her since day one of freshman year. When she walked into homeroom, broken from the loss of her mother, but so valiantly brave. So strong and intelligent and full of dreams—I can see them in her eyes on those brief occasions she glances at me. I want to make every single one of those dreams come true.
So I control myself.
My urges are a direct conflict to Ayla’s dreams. That makes them the enemy.
Even now, standing in the silent garage with her tears wetting my thumb, I am going too far. I’m revealing way too much, but I can’t help myself.
She came to me. She finally came to me.
“Y-your angel?” she whispers now.
“That’s right.” Control yourself. The mantra doesn’t quite work this time, unfortunately. Not when she’s standing so close, looking so fucking beautiful and we’re alone. Alone for the very first time. I prop a forearm on the roof of the car and lean down until our foreheads are less than an inch apart. “My. Angel.”
“You’ve never even spoken to me.”
“I speak to you without words, Ayla. And you hear me loud and clear.”
“No, I…I don’t.”
“Oh yes, you do.” Can’t help it, I push a little closer until her tits touch my chest and I hiss in response, finally allowing myself to privilege of touching her forehead with mine. “What do I say to you in class?”
She shakes her head. Wets her lips and takes her time formulating a response. Am I making her dizzy the way she’s making me dizzy? “It’s m-more what you say to everyone else,” she whispers, finally.
“And what is that?”
“Stay away,” she whispers.
My dick is as hard as nails, just hearing her breathe. Feeling the swell of her tits, touching her precious face, finally having her words directed at me. I’m in paradise. “Good girl.”