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For the ones who’ve spent their lives being just a little *too* agreeable. Here’s to getting comfortable disappointing other people to avoid disappointing yourself.
The truth is we only have control over a finite number of things in life. The rest is a fucking crap shoot. Kandi Steiner
What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.
Plus, I remember how Sloane looks at a man when she really wants him. And she isn’t looking at her fiancé the way she used to look at me.
“If you call Willa a girl, she’ll castrate you,” Cade grumbles, yanking the tie off and shoving it into his suit coat pocket. “She’s going to castrate you for not wearing the tie she picked out.” Rhett chuckles. “She’ll get over it when I tie her up with it later.”
What kind of man stops in the middle of breaking me out of my sham of a wedding to rub my sore feet? A damn good one.
“Maybe if I drink enough of these”—I lift the six-pack, feeling a little loopy—“I’ll invite you to join me.”
I let myself admit that the way I love Sloane might not be how one friend loves another at all.
“That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.” “Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”
“Adorable coming from the guy who wears his jeans at least two sizes too small.” I give Cade a big, cheesy grin, loving the feel of something that isn’t just sad. “Willa likes them tight.” I quirk a brow. “How long does it take her to peel them off of you? My money is on at least five minutes.” “Bring your timer. You can watch next time, could probably teach your dumb ass a thing or two.”
Because I’ve been staring at Jasper Gervais since I was ten years old, and suddenly . . . he’s staring back.
Jasper: I don’t like talking to people. Sloane: You talk to me. Jasper: You’re not people. Sloane: Lmao. What am I then? Jasper: My person.
My body seizes up, and he doesn’t help matters when he softly says, “Relax, Sloane. Bend over the table.”
“I can’t ever lose you,” he growls. “You won’t,” I reply quietly, right as the tip of his nose traces the shell of my ear. “I might.” “Nev—” Before I can say never, he cuts me off with, “Because I think I’m about to fuck everything up between us.” And then he kisses me.
“Sunny, you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” “Good,” I murmur against his mouth. “We’ll be insane together. I’m so tired of doing it alone.”
And if I’ve figured out anything in this Shakespearean tragedy of a life, it’s that life is just moments all strung together like multicolor Christmas lights. You always end up liking some colors better than others. Joyful, tragic, peaceful, funny. Unforgettable moments, and moments we wish we could forget.
“Times have changed, Sloane. I’m not scared anymore. You’re not my fucking friend. You’re just mine.”
Decided I won’t be the girl who goes along with what everyone else around her wants. I’m going to speak up. I’m going to get comfortable disappointing other people to avoid disappointing myself. I won’t apologize for doing things the way I want to do them. I’m ready to be unapologetically me and let go of the people in my life who don’t approve of the person I am now.
“Do you need me to lend you a hand?” I’m about to say no out loud, but his fingers jump to my mouth, pressing on my lips and silencing me. He drops his head to my ear. “I saw you in there watching me, Sunny. I saw you squeezing your thighs together. So fucking needy.”
“Have you been pretending other people were me all these years? Just like me? I bet you have.”
“You might be wearing his ring, but we both know it was my cock you were riding in your head,”
“Jealous is only the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I was the man touching you.” His hand takes a tour of my curves as he talks. “The man palming these pretty tits. The man with his head between these thighs making you scream. The man filling up this tight little pussy every night.”
“See, Sloane? You can wear someone else’s ring, but we both know you’ve always been mine.”
“I feel like I could crumble under the weight of not wanting to disappoint you. I’m paralyzed by my fear of losing you.”
“The thought of needing you this badly and letting you down.” He drops my gaze, shaking his head. “It fucking kills me.”
“I was about to tell you I’ve never had sex without a condom, Sloane.” He bends down and picks the bowl up off the floor. “I was about to tell you the only way you’d look prettier was with my cum in that tight little cunt.”
I wish I had something cool and sexy to say after everything he’s told me tonight. But his dick has quite literally rendered me speechless. “Something you wanna tell me, Sunny?” “You’re so fucking hot,” is what I blurt.
Only Jasper Gervais would have a body like a titan, a face like a model, and a cock like a pornstar.
“Jasper, it’s too much,” I murmur, dropping my forehead against his chest. He plants a kiss against my hair and pulls out, like he’s going to grant me some reprieve. His head drops beside my ear, and he whispers, “You can take it,” right before driving back in.
Willa: No one deserves the last name Woodcock. He’d have to look like Henry Cavill and fuck like Peter North for me to overlook that.
“Play with your tits, Sloane. I wanna watch you while I take your mouth.”
All I can think about is sex. How I went from dancing so rigorously and working such long hours that it barely ever crossed my mind to being feral for it is really a wonder to behold. I decide I will now refer to this phenomenon as The Jasper Gervais Effect. He’ll edge you for a day and turn you into a happy desperate ho! That could be his tagline.
