“Christian, you’re a fucking idiot,” I murmured to myself as I sat in my car behind a classic stone
church. I had graduated from being attracted to trouble to picking it up in a church parking lot. Then
she came flying out of the back door of the church, her skirt bundled up in her arms, exposing her legs
from the knees down, a veil flowing behind her. She ran in heels like the devil himself was after her,
and hell, maybe he was. I had been shocked that she had texted me, and even more shocked still to
find myself offering to pick her up. But Bella had gotten under my skin. Maybe it was seeing her
holding my son so sweetly. Maybe it was her humble admission that she wasn’t good in bed. Or more
likely it was the fact that she had come to my mom’s still planning to marry an extreme douchebag
and had now seen the goddamn light. I didn’t want her to change her mind and lock herself into a life
with such a miserable guy.
church. I had graduated from being attracted to trouble to picking it up in a church parking lot. Then
she came flying out of the back door of the church, her skirt bundled up in her arms, exposing her legs
and hell, maybe he was. I had been shocked that she had texted me, and even more shocked still to
find myself offering to pick her up. But Bella had gotten under my skin. Maybe it was seeing her
holding my son so sweetly. Maybe it was her humble admission that she wasn’t good in bed. Or more
likely it was the fact that she had come to my mom’s still planning to marry an extreme douchebag
and had now seen the goddamn light. I didn’t want her to change her mind and lock herself into a life
with such a miserable guy.
Am I known for being Mr. Monogamous? No. But I wouldn’t put it off on my girlfriend if I
cheated. It would be my fault and I would take responsibility, not make excuses. And hell, I never
cheated on a woman I was involved with, because I was never involved. I just helped women cheat.
Yep. Fucking saint sitting at church, that was me. I started to get out to open the door for her but
she called out, winded and hysterical, “Get in and drive!” She yanked open the passenger door,
tossed a bag over the seat to the back, and scrambled to get inside.
cheated. It would be my fault and I would take responsibility, not make excuses. And hell, I never
cheated on a woman I was involved with, because I was never involved. I just helped women cheat.
Yep. Fucking saint sitting at church, that was me. I started to get out to open the door for her but
she called out, winded and hysterical, “Get in and drive!” She yanked open the passenger door,
tossed a bag over the seat to the back, and scrambled to get inside.
I slid back behind the wheel and glanced around to see if anyone was coming out after her.
“You in?” There hadn’t been a door slam. She was grappling to get it closed, but finally I heard
the click. Her head turned toward me. “Okay, I’m good.”
“You in?” There hadn’t been a door slam. She was grappling to get it closed, but finally I heard
the click. Her head turned toward me. “Okay, I’m good.”
I hit the locks just in case the door wasn’t completely closed. I would fucking flip out if she spilled
onto the road in a wedding dress. “Where are we going?” I asked her.
onto the road in a wedding dress. “Where are we going?” I asked her.
“Anywhere.” She pushed the veil back off her face with trembling fingers. “Somewhere where no
one can see me or find me.”
one can see me or find me.”
“I know a place.” We had a piece of property that had belonged to my mother’s father that had been
used back in the day for fishing and hunting. There was a dilapidated shack on it and an old
railroad caboose my grandfather had thought was cool.
used back in the day for fishing and hunting. There was a dilapidated shack on it and an old
railroad caboose my grandfather had thought was cool.
I was driving but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Bella. She was engulfed in all the trappings
of a bride. There was white fabric everywhere, and her hair was curled in long waves. She had on
extra makeup and thick, dark eyelashes, and her cleavage was popping. “You look beautiful,” I said,
even though it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. But she did.
of a bride. There was white fabric everywhere, and her hair was curled in long waves. She had on
extra makeup and thick, dark eyelashes, and her cleavage was popping. “You look beautiful,” I said,
even though it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. But she did.
She was stunning. Breathtaking. Mouthwatering. Even her anxious breathing just set her cleavage
heaving, turning me on. I wanted to yank that bodice down and suck her nipples. Lift her skirt and
dive on under there with fingers, mouth, my hard cock. I wanted to yank that tiara veil thing off her
head and bury my hands in her hair, tugging her head backward, forcing her to look at me.
heaving, turning me on. I wanted to yank that bodice down and suck her nipples. Lift her skirt and
dive on under there with fingers, mouth, my hard cock. I wanted to yank that tiara veil thing off her
head and bury my hands in her hair, tugging her head backward, forcing her to look at me.
I also wanted to hold her naked in my arms and reassure her that she was enough. Sexy. Satisfying.
Maybe I was actually going to have a chance to do all of that.
Don’t miss Sophie and Cain’s story in The Hookup!
About Erin McCarthy
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy first published in 2002 and has since
written over sixty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and
contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient,
and is both traditionally and indie published.
written over sixty novels and novellas in teen fiction, new adult romance, paranormal, and
contemporary romance. Erin is a RITA finalist and an ALA Reluctant Young Reader award recipient,
and is both traditionally and indie published.
When she’s not writing she can be found sipping martinis in high heels or eating ice cream in
fleece pajamas depending on the day, and herding her animals, kids, and amazing renovation-addicted
husband.
fleece pajamas depending on the day, and herding her animals, kids, and amazing renovation-addicted
husband.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorerin
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