by J. B. McGee
“So, what’s your plan for the wedding?”
“You know better than I do if I tell the real reason, people will pity me, Holden. I’ll be the laughing stock of the crowd. Everyone will wonder how I could have been with him and not known.” She swallows. “Even you asked me how I could have made out with you and not known the difference.”
Shit. I had no idea at the time how fucked up this situation really was. I didn’t mean it like that. Well, maybe I did. But hearing her say it sounds so bad. I’m speechless to that. She’s right. She’ll most definitely be the talk of the town. It won’t look good for her.
“What’s your plan?”
“The truth with a little omission.” Her eyes search mine, and her lips curve into a smile.
I rub my thumb along the hand of hers I’m holding. “Keep going.”
“You and I know the truth about everything, about how we felt before things got shitty between our families, about the mix-ups and the timeline of being together, of trying to do what was morally right even though Oliver didn’t give a fuck.”
I nod.
“Let them define us.” She lets out a small laugh. “Like I thought I had you defined, it’ll be all wrong. While they cover their mouths to hide their gossip as we walk by, we’ll be figuring out our lives…together this time.” She leans down and gently brushes her lips with mine before tugging my bottom lip, darting her tongue in my mouth, then pulls away. “What do you think?”
“And you don’t think that’ll make you the talk of the town?” I ask, incredulity causing my voice to go so high it is almost embarrassing.
“That’s going to happen no matter what.” She shrugs. “I don’t want to be at the center of the gossip and rumor mill, to be pitied like it will be if they know about Oliver. People will think I was being controlled by him. That is essentially what happened. He controlled that entire situation by keeping that secret. It’s his secret to tell. I just don’t want that on me.”
“Right. The reaction will be the same with this, probably worse because this is me, Cam. Your parents aren’t going to be supportive. My plan had been to win your date, for you to come to your senses, you to break up with Oliver, and decide you wanted me. But not any of this shit. This isn’t even shit.” My lips twitch. “It’s fucking diarrhea it’s so messy.”
She laughs, and damn had I missed hearing those giggles escape her sexy body. It’s not helping my cockache.
“But I’m not afraid of people pitying me for wanting you. That’s the difference. They may think you’re not worthy because of your past, but I know a different side of you.”
“Yes, you do. But why can’t we tell the truth? Don’t you realize if they think we, I, lied and cheated it will just solidify their opinions of me?”
She bites her lip. “Because it means I have to out Oliver.”
“You care more about Oliver’s reputation than mine?” My breaths are few and far between. I don’t care how long she’s been with that fucker. She’s known me forever, and she knows me. She. Knows. The. Real. Me. She and my mother. It still feels like impending doom, like she’s about to totally stomp on my hope. Guess it’s better that this is happening now, that I don’t have to wait for her to let me down until after I’ve made love to her.
“Of course not.”
I suck in a breath of air. My heart bounces back in my chest. I’m not sure where it had been before she said that. “Then, tell them you changed your mind about Oliver, that you weren’t compatible. Happens all the time. Besides, Cam, people would have to be blind to miss the fact you’re miserable around him.”
“Even if I said that, if they see me with you, they’re going to immediately talk. Especially since you won my auction last night. God, I wish I had some clothes on. I feel stupid sitting here fully exposed like this.”
I shake my head and rake her over. “I like you fully exposed. Inside and out. Especially on my lap.”
She crosses her arms. “It’d be one thing if you hadn’t told me I have to wait for you to be inside me. I feel rejected.”
“I think I’m regretting my decision to make us wait. Please know you’re not rejected. I never meant for you to ever feel that way.”
She kisses me and moves her mouth to my ear where she nibbles my lobe. Fuck. “Then don’t make us wait,” she whispers, her breath sending shivers all over my body.
Throwing my head back, she kisses my neck, then my collarbone, and nibbles her way down my chest. “We should wait,” I say, but it’s barely audible.
“We’ve waited half our lives. Isn’t that enough?”
“What’s a few more days until the date I paid an asinine amount of money for?”
“Well, that’d be kind of like paying for sex. And besides, one or both of us could die tomorrow.”
I perk my head up. “Cock blocker, Cam. Both of those statements.”
She turns and looks at the picture of our families. “You should know that truth better than anyone. Don’t make me wait, Holden.”
My throat constricts, my stomach clenches. She’s right, though. I know that better than anyone. One day Brody was throwing fake fucking snakes on her, and the next my heart had a gaping hole that will never be filled again. Just do it, Holden. She’s begging you. I shake my head. “All the more reason to make sure that when we do it, it’s worth remembering for the rest of your lives. I’ll make it worth your wait. I promise.”
Thank you so much for reading and supporting me. It means so much.
The Promise is $0.99 and available for pre-order with a release date of November 29, 2016!
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Holden tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch. Kissing his neck, I lick my way down to his collarbone and nibble my way to his chest. His cock is like steel beneath my naked body. “We should wait,” he says. I’m not sure he’s fully convinced himself, so I rock on his lap.
“We’ve waited half our lives. Isn’t that enough?” I ask, my hands skimming down his sides, my fingers dipping into every crack and crevice of his ripped abdomen.
“Then what’s the big deal waiting a little longer until the date I paid an asinine amount of money for?”
I look up under my lashes. Is he serious? That’s like asking me to wait a year at this point. Once I make up my mind I want something, I go get it. He should know that. Anyway, the auction had already made me feel like I’d prostituted myself. “Well, that’d be kind of like paying for sex, wouldn’t it? And besides, like I said, one or both of us could die tomorrow.” Where the hell had that come from? I’m not usually morbid, but it’s hard to forget about how precious life is when I’m around him.
His head pops up, his eyes wide. “Cock blocker, Cam. Both of those statements.”
Cock blocker. What I want to tell him is he’s the one doing all the blocking. Glancing over my shoulder, I take a quick peek at the picture of our families. Violet, Holden’s sister, was so thin. He hasn’t mentioned her at all. In fact, every time he catches me looking at the photo, he clams up. So, I’ve not pushed the subject. There’s plenty of other conversation that needs to be sorted between the two of us. More pressing issues. I grind my hips into his. “You should know that truth better than anyone. Don’t make me wait, Holden.”
He swallows before shaking his head. “All the more reason to make sure that when we do it, it’s worth remembering for the rest of your life. I’ll make it worth your wait. I promise.”
“But not on the date, please.” I push off his lap, reaching down through the heap of clothes for the dress I wore last night. “Was it your mother’s idea to pimp the girls out? Because it doesn’t seem like something—” I glance back at Holden, my eyes wide. “Holden Jaxon Masters, you didn’t!”
He’s gloriously naked. He had time to gaze at me, but I never had time to really do the same to him. His smirk is everything I need to know. He shrugs. “It’
d be bad if I plead the fifth, right? Because that’d indicate there was something to hide.”
My eyes rake his body up and down. “No secrets, Holden. Promise me.”
He nods. “It wasn’t entirely my idea, but I knew a little bit about it.”
I grab his Rind ‘N Grind shirt from the floor, ball it up, and throw it as hard as I can at his head. “You’re an ass.”
He chuckles. “Before you put the dress back on, look beside the couch. Brought you some of Vi’s clothes so you wouldn’t have to do the whole walk of shame thing.”
A chin strap wouldn’t be strong enough to keep my jaw from falling. “You did that for me?” I point to my chest. I don’t tell Holden that her clothes are probably too small for me.
He nods. “Eventually, you’re going to quit calling me an ass. You just keep end up having to eat your words.”
My stomach starts to thrash and gnarl at the word eat. “You didn’t happen to stop at Rind ‘N Grind, too, did you?”
He slips his shirt over his head before standing and reaching for his jeans. “Well, I wasn’t sure you were still here. Thought you may have gotten that Uber since I didn’t hear from you.”
“But you brought clothes,” I say, pulling out a white crop top button-up shirt. It looks like it could have been Holden’s before someone cut it off.
In a jiffy, he’s fully dressed. How is it possible he’s able to do that so quickly? He snatches the condom from the couch, picks his wallet up, and puts it back in before shoving the billfold in his back pocket. Dammit. Guess it’s final that we won’t be needing that today. “Yeah. Actually, that was my shirt. That’s why I picked it out. Knew it’d fit you, and quite frankly, the thought of you wearing something of mine…” He licks his lips. “Well, I thought it’d be just what it is. No need to return it. Just keep it.”
Digging my hand into the bag, the only thing left was a pair of washed out cutoff denim shorts. “Were these yours, too, you stud muffin?”
His laugh is boisterous. “Hell no.”
Surprisingly, they fit pretty well. “Huh.” I roll up the legs a couple of times to account for the length. “You sure? These seem long.”
“Hurry up so we can get food, tigress.”
“What about shoes? You didn’t bring me shoes?”
Holden shrugs. “You have shoes. Sexy, expensive, fuck me shoes.”
“If those are fuck me shoes, I want a refund.”
He throws his head back. “Touché.”
Slipping my feet in my heels from last night, I glance down. “I feel like a stripper.”
“You’re too beautiful to be a stripper.” He tosses my dress and the towels into the bag. “I’ll take the linens home to wash and bring them back. I’ll drop your dress off at the dry cleaner’s.” He puts the chair away, tosses the bottle of water in the trash, and fluffs the throw pillows. “There. No one will even know we were in here.”
“Aren’t strippers pretty?”
He shakes his head. “Not like you, Cam.”
Why is he tidying up the place so much? “Do you care if they know?” I ask as he unlatches the lock, pulling the door open and offering to let me leave first.
“Hell no. I thought you would. Plus, it’s nice manners to leave the place in the condition we found it. Who raised you?” After he locks the door back, he slings the bag over his shoulder, his muscles bulging out of the tight brown shirt.
“I would have done the walk of shame this morning. Although…” I laugh. “This outfit is making the walk feel shameful all by itself.”
“Hey, now. Careful.”
He’s right. I shouldn’t have said that. “Okay. I take it back. Did I say thank you?”
“You don’t have to.” Our fingers brush as he sways into my side. Our eyes meet, and his are hooded, like he felt the electricity that just scorched through my body. What are we doing? Are we pretending this doesn’t exist? Are we embracing it finally? My heart feels like it’s going to thump out of my chest as my mouth dries.
“You know.” I reach down and loop my pinky with his.
He smirks. “No, I don’t know. But I like this.” He nods down to our hands. “Tell me.”
“I bet if you looked bitch up in Webster’s, the example sentences would be something like ‘Cammie Spencer was a total bitch to Holden when she insulted his keen fashion sense. She’s sorry and appreciative all at once. She really doesn’t like it when her bitchiness surfaces for others to see.’ Those would be the noun sentences. And ‘She’ll try to not to let her behavior get any bitchier.’ Adjective.”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Smart, beautiful girl. Stop turning me on, or I’m going to take you back to my place before breakfast and it’ll be lunch before we make it to Rind ‘N Grind.”
“Hmm. Promise?”
His eyes gleam. “Behave, bitch.”
I gasp, but can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. “Hey!”
He ducks a bit, like he’s afraid the daggers I’m staring into him are going to pierce his gorgeous eyeballs. They’re the same color as the clear sky today. His eyebrows lift. “Too far?”
I slap his arm. “Too damn far, asshole.”
Thank you so much for reading and supporting me. It means so much.
The Promise is $0.99 and available for pre-order with a release date of November 29, 2016!
It’d mean a lot if you’d take a few minutes to leave a review. I read them all, and I love getting reader feedback.
J.B. McGee is a mother, wife, and the Amazon Top 100 author of the best selling This Series. Amazon Crossing acquired the German rights to her debut novel, Broken. Heartfall, her coming of age novel about a bullied ballerina, is a #1 best seller in the Teen and Young Adult Performing Arts genre. Skipping Stones, a military romance about a young woman strongly influenced by her faith and her family all the while searching for her true love, is a #1 best seller in Women's Christian Fiction.
When J.B.'s not writing, she enjoys reading as well as watching and live-chatting her favorite television shows with her friends. Her favorite shows are Quantico, Blindspot, Grey’s Anatomy, The Bachelor/Bachelorette, Below Deck, The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, and Scandal (mainly because of her love of Scott Foley).
Born and raised in Aiken, South Carolina, she attended Converse College and eventually earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in Early Childhood Education from The University of South Carolina-Aiken in 2006.
In college, she was told by her children’s literature professor she would be the one student from her class to be an author. McGee shook her head and laughed. But in 2012, over six years after that statement was made and after a love of reading had been reignited, she gave writing a shot. J.B. gladly ate crow when she emailed her first book to the above mentioned children’s literature professor thanking her and acknowledging the accuracy of her prophecy.
In 2011, it was discovered that not only do both of her children, but also she and her husband, have mitochondrial disease. Affecting 1 in 2500 people, it has no cure or treatments. Being a writer allows J.B. to care for her family’s unique needs while also providing a platform for raising awareness for this disease.
She is a hopeless romantic who loves to escape into fairy tales—some she reads and some she creates.
J.B. McGee and her family now reside in Buford, Georgia.