Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Plus, they spend a lot of time together doing movie stuff. Why wouldn't they get together? It's what half the freaking world wants anyway. They literally write magazine articles about it and make fan videos about it. I can't compete with that. No one can.
"Ugh," I groan, dropping my phone on my nightstand to drag the blankets up over me.
I'm never falling in love ever again.
Chapter Five
Gage
"What are you doing here?" Troian blinks at me, suspicion rife in her bleary gaze as I stand on her front porch with my hands shoved into my pockets, trying to keep them to myself.
It's damn hard to do when she looks like an angel with her wild curls and pretty little white baby doll dress.
I dreamed about her all night again. She wasn't mad at me in my dreams. She was in my bed with me; her soft body wrapped around me as I pumped into her again and again. Her sweet whimpers drove me crazy. I think I woke up with my cock in my hand three different times.
I'm hard again now. Not that I'm surprised.
Hard and desperate are my permanent state around her.
"I came to drive you to school."
"I drive myself to school, Gage."
"Not today," I say firmly, not leaving her room to argue with me. "Today, you're riding with me."
"No, I'm not."
Okay, so she's going to argue anyway. Time for Plan B.
"What is that?" I ask, glancing over her shoulder into the house.
She turns to look.
I quickly slip past her, snatching the keys to her SUV off the console table. I spot her book bag on the floor beside the table and snatch it up, too.
"Hey!" she growls. "Give me back my stuff."
"No can do, butterfly," I say cheerfully. "Your stuff will be in my truck with me." I turn to glance at her, smirking. "But you're definitely welcome to join if you don't want to be late for school. It's a long walk from here. Seven whole miles."
"Gage, I swear to God…"
"You swear to God what?" I pace toward her, not stopping until she's pressed up against the wall like she's ready to climb it to get away from me. Even that doesn't stop me. I know she loves me. I know she wants me. She's just mad as hell right now. That's my fault, and it's up to me to fix it. But I can't do that if she won't let me.
I stop when I'm so close I feel her perfect tits against my chest.
She whimpers in the back of her throat as I lean forward, skimming my nose across the side of her face.
Jesus, she smells delicious.
Am I allowed to lick her right now? Probably not.
Do I want to do it anyway? Absolutely yes.
"Three things," I breathe against her ear. "First, you smell fucking incredible. Second, you're too beautiful when you're pouting. It makes me crazy, butterfly. Third, you aren't going to the fucking dance with Corey Gaines." I press my lips against the shell of her ear before pulling back. "Now, get in the truck before we're late."
"You…"
"What?"
She plants her hands against my chest, shoving me backward. "Don't get to tell me what to do, Gage Bronx!" she growls at me, her gorgeous eyes flashing fire at me. "I'll go to the dance with whoever I want to go with."
"It won't be him, butterfly. Get in the truck."
She opens her mouth to say something and then snaps it closed, storming past me. If she were a cat, her tail would be bristling right now. She's really pissed. It's honestly pretty hot.
I wait until I'm sure she's headed toward the truck and then discreetly adjust my dick before locking up the house.
By the time I climb in the truck, she's already buckled herself in and is glaring out the window. I set her stuff beside us, keeping her keys in my pocket just in case she tries to escape before we get to school.
The ten-minute ride is completely silent.
"You texted the wrong person last night," she snaps as I'm making the turn into the parking lot.
Texted the wrong person? What is she–?
"Your girlfriend probably wouldn't appreciate knowing you sent me a text meant for her."
Ah, fuck me. Can I do nothing right with her?
"I didn't text the wrong person, Troian," I say quietly, glancing over at her. "I sent it to exactly who I intended to receive it. And I don't have a girlfriend."
Her body jerks in the seat beside me, but she doesn't respond. Instead, she stares out the window, refusing to look at me.
I sigh, pulling into a parking space. Clearly, I have my work cut out for me if I'm going to earn her forgiveness. I don't blame her for that. She's earned the right to be angry when I've spent years hurting her because I'm an idiot. But damn. I miss my sweet little butterfly.