Chapter 2 #3
“After I caught you with another woman, you’re willing to marry me?”
He gives me a condescending smile. “I know you’re upset right now. I’m not going to hold it against you.”
My stomach churns. “How generous.”
“You’re emotional. It’s understandable.”
“Get out.”
His smile vanishes. “What?”
“Get out of this house.”
“This is my house too.”
“The lease is in my name.”
“Because your credit was better.”
“And I paid the deposit.”
“I pay half the rent.”
“You were late the last three months.”
“Money is tight because of the wedding you insisted on.”
“I wanted to elope!”
“You wanted a wedding.”
“I wanted you.” My voice breaks despite my effort to control it. “I thought you wanted me too.”
“I do.”
“You just said marrying me means being tied down.”
“All men feel that way.”
“No.” Grayson’s face flashes through my mind.
I have no right to imagine him now. I barely know him. But I cannot picture Grayson standing in front of a woman he loves and treating her like an obligation. I can’t imagine him rolling his eyes while she cries or blaming her for his betrayal.
Grayson would be loyal. I don’t know how I know that. I simply do.
Carter studies my face. “What?”
“I see everything clearly.”
I walk toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“To pack.”
“Molly, stop.”
I don’t.
He follows me down the hallway. “You can’t just walk away.”
I push open the bedroom door and drag my suitcase from the closet.
“You’re proving my point,” he says. “The second things get difficult, you run.”
I put the suitcase on the bed and unzip it. “The second I catch you with another woman, I leave.”
I finish packing and wheel my suitcase onto the porch and close the door behind me.
I choose a hotel twenty minutes away. It isn’t particularly nice, but it’s clean and anonymous.
The woman at the front desk hands me the key and a slouch into my room.
I lie in my bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight slipping through the curtains.
I should be thinking about lesson plans or the meeting with Principal Hargrove.
Or my impending doomed nuptials. Instead, my mind keeps drifting back to the parking lot. To Grayson.
My hand slides slowly down my stomach as I close my eyes and let the fantasy take over.
I’m pressed against the car again, but this time there’s no principal, no risk of being seen.
Just Grayson’s big, solid body pinning me from behind.
His chest is hard and warm against my back, his hips rocking slowly into me so I can feel every thick inch of his cock straining against his jeans, grinding right where I need him most. A soft moan escapes my lips in the quiet bedroom as my fingers dip lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties.
In my mind, his rough mechanic’s hands are everywhere.
One large palm slides up under my blouse, calluses scraping deliciously over my ribs until he cups my breast, squeezing, thumb circling my nipple until it tightens into a hard peak.
I arch into my own touch, imagining the heat of his breath on my neck as he growls my name.
“Molly…”
His other hand trails down my hip. Those strong fingers glide over my bare thigh, then higher, teasing the edge of my panties before slipping inside.
I gasp aloud in the empty room, my real fingers moving in the same rhythm—stroking through my slick folds as I picture his thick digits parting me, rubbing my swollen clit with firm, confident strokes.
I’m so wet. Wetter than I’ve been in months.
The guilt twists sharp in my chest—he’s my fiancé’s father—but it only makes the fantasy burn hotter.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t be imagining his mouth on my neck, sucking and biting while his hands explore every inch of me.
One hand kneading my breast, the other plunging two fingers deep inside me as he presses me harder against the car, his massive erection rocking against my ass.
I whimper, legs spreading wider on the mattress as I fuck myself with my fingers faster, chasing the pleasure. In my head, Grayson’s voice is low and filthy in my ear: “You feel how hard you make me, baby? Been thinking about this tight little body since the second I touched you.”
My free hand pinches my nipple, tugging just hard enough to send sparks straight to my core. I’m close already, hips bucking off the bed, the fantasy so vivid I can almost smell the mix of oil and man on his skin, feel the powerful flex of his arms caging me in while he grinds against me.
I come hard with his name on my lips, thighs trembling, my body clenching around my fingers as waves of forbidden pleasure crash through me. For a few blissful seconds there’s only Grayson—his hands, his heat, his cock pressed so perfectly against me.
Then the guilt settles back in, heavy and cold. I pull my hand away, staring at the ceiling with flushed cheeks and a racing heart. This can never happen. But even as I tell myself that, my body still hums with the aftershocks, already craving more.