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The other one has his head ducked towards the door, eyes alight and molten, with a grin tugging at his lips. My heart shivers with pleasure as I rush towards the library. Tate Coleson just smiled at me.
The ultimate feminist win: thriving off the patriarchy for our own evil gain.
“Tate cannot see you like this,” Mitch says. “In fact, Tate cannot see other people seeing you like this. He’s going to go insane.”
“I had to come and check on my favourite girl,”
“Well, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I knew that my girl would be the sweetest little thing in here tonight.”
“I didn’t bring any condoms,” he murmurs. “And you better not have any condoms. So unless you want me to knock you up tonight, I’m going to need you to cut it out.”
And I know more than anything that his deepest fantasy involves getting a nice girl
to say I do by a church altar and then pumping her pregnant for the rest of her life.
“You know I’m gonna make you wear them when I fuck you.”
“Because you turned eighteen yesterday, baby,” he says softly, “so I had to come and get my girl.”
