by Vivian Wood
“You know,” Ellie said, “I didn’t mean, like, love love. I just mean I always really liked you. I’m sorry. This is stupid.”
“No. No, it’s okay,” Henry said. “I’m sorry I laughed. It’s just—I’ve known you for a really long time. Ever since… ever since my parents died when I was a kid, your family has been so kind to me. Treating me, well, normal. You know? That’s tough. It’s hard to find.”
“So, what? You think of me like a sister?” Her heart anchored down into her belly.
“No,” he said. “Actually, no. Is that strange? I’ve known you since you were born. But, no, I never thought of you like a sister. A friend, sure, but not a sister. You’ve gotta believe me, kid.”
“Don’t call me kid,” she said. “I’m not.”
“I know that,” he said. There it was again, that pulling in his eyes. He’d never looked at her like that before.
“Let me prove it,” she said, leaning into him. Tilting her head and parting her lips, even as her eyes fluttered shut she could sense him mirroring her.
Their lips met, the sweetness of the champagne mixing with the cold crisp taste of his own lingering beer. Her tongue flicked across his and he bit gently into her lower lip, but he pulled away just as she felt wetness start to blossom between her thighs.
“Ellie, we can’t,” he said. “I’m just… I’m just not interested in you like that. You have to understand you’re way too young.”
“I’m sixteen,” she said.
“Jesus. Exactly,” he said. “You’re too young for me, and you always will be.”
The lump in her throat was back with a vengeance, urged on by the hot tears pricking her eyes. “Henry—” she stammered, but it was too late. Throwing her head forward, she vomited a week’s worth of drinks onto his canvas shoes. The mystery pink drink, the champagne, a whiskey and Coke from much earlier in the night, all of it.
“Ellie!”
“Your shoes.” She couldn’t stop the tears now. “I’m sorry. Your shoes…”
“It’s okay. Who cares about the shoes? Get it all out, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” Henry’s hand on her back pumped a red hot heat into her, calming her. It was nearly paternal in nature, but not quite. Not quite.
“Henry! Ellie? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Eli appeared from the corner of her eye, loping off the porch.
“I… I just…”
“She just had too much to drink,” Henry said. “She’s okay.”
“Thanks for taking care of her, man,” Eli said. “Dammit, Ellie, I told you that you could only come if I didn’t have to babysit you.”
She lowered her face to her arms, letting her hair serve as a blanket. Just like a kid scared of what’s under the bed.
“Maybe you should take her home,” Henry told Eli.
“Yeah. You know, Ellie, you’re one serious buzzkill.” She felt Eli lifting her up by the arms. “Come on.”
“Sorry,” she mouthed to Henry.
“No sorries,” Henry told her, smiling. That smile. It always did her in.
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About Vivian Wood
Vivian likes to write about troubled, deeply flawed alpha males and the fiery, kick-ass women who bring them to their knees.
Vivian's lasting motto in romance is a quote from a favorite song: "Soulmates never die."
Be sure to follow Vivian through her Vivian's Vixens mailing list or Facebook group to keep up with all the awesome giveaways, author videos, ARC opportunities, and more!
Vivian’s Bad Boy Romances
Standalone novels
Addiction
Obsession (Coming In October)
His Virgin
His Best Friend’s Little Sister
Claiming Her Innocence
His To Keep
Promise Me
Knocking Boots
SEAL’s Bride
SEAL’s Kiss
SEAL’s Touch
Small Town Seals
Hard Up
Covet
Rock Me
Protection
Bad Boy Prince
Punt
For more information….
vivian-wood.com
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