From the writer of Sweet Spot, comes the sequel of two familiar characters you already saw coming.
Harper Davis has many titles: marketing connoisseur, almost-lawyer, disappointment to parents, and most importantly: liar. Big. Fat. Liar. But what el...
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Hands on me. All over me.
Touching. Caressing. Grabbing. Feeling.
I moan low in my throat, the pressure in my tummy building up. I'm hot all over and my pulse is erratic, in more places than one. My chest, my stomach, between my legs. It's too much yet not enough.
"Please," I whisper.
My hips move all on their own accord. They're grinding because something is between them. Something that's making me throb, making me sweat, making me...dirty.
"Tink," comes a rasp.
Sawyer.
My eyes fly open on a gasp.
I immediately shut them again when the light of day hits too strongly against them. Piece by piece, my surroundings register when I reopen them after a couple of seconds. The noise machine, my phone buzzing on the side table, Mao meowing loudly outside the door, the door that belongs to my parents' guest room, the guest room I'm sleeping in...with Sawyer. Sleeping in but not sleeping with.
Holy crap. That was a dream, wasn't it? But I'm sweating like it was real, pulse racing like it was real, blanket tucked tightly between my legs like it was real. But it wasn't. I was having very real dreams about my very fake boyfriend who's been making me feel very dirty as of late. This was so not the plan.
"Tink."
I freeze.
Okay, that was real.
I definitely heard that in my dream but I just heard it in real life too which means...
Slowly, carefully, extremely reluctantly, I turn my head only for my heart to drop into my ass when my suspicions are confirmed. Sawyer's already awake.
He seems like he's been awake for a while which means he called for me before. Before, when I was moaning and grinding in my sleep like a sex-deprived whore, which I very much am. And from the way he watches me—eyes sharp, jaw clenched, breathing hard? He heard and saw all of it.
My phone buzzes again and I quickly look away, ignoring the heat of his stare drilling into me from behind. Maybe there's a chance he doesn't really know. Not unless I said his name or something. Oh God, please don't tell me I said his name?
My hands are shaking as I unlock my phone and click on the text notifications from a couple of minutes ago. I read them three times before they actually register, my mind still painfully occupied by Sawyer's unwavering stare that feels like a physical touch. How long has he been staring at me like that?
Mom: Out with your father to get our suits for the auction.
Mom: Send a picture of what you will be wearing. I might have to pick up something for you as well.
Dad: Fed Mao. He's napping. Be back in a couple of hours x
"Um..." I swallow against my dry throat, not sure if it's from having just woken up or the nerves that are flooding me. "Mom and Dad are out shopping. Let's go have breakfast."
