AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And the real Brooks Gentry lives with his sister and her son, who he graciously took in when they were in need.
“I could use the company, too,” I say, combing my fingers through my hair and searching out my reflection in the dresser mirror across the room. Much work to be done there. “You should come over here.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I give him the address and end the call, my body fluttering with excitement as I rush to get ready for him. He’ll be here in ten minutes, maybe eight, if he rushes.
Oh my god. Brooks Gentry is coming over here. And I may be inexperienced, but I know that company isn’t all he’s going to want to give me.
We’re going to have sex.
I’m going to have sex with Brooks Freaking Gentry.
Standing in front of the closet, I weigh my options. Dress? No, too fancy. Sweats? No, I don’t want to look like a slob. I finally pick out a little romper and wiggle into it, then rush to put on some make-up and do my hair.
This is really happening.
I pinch myself several times in order to get it to sink in, but it still doesn’t.
I can barely even think straight. All I can think about is him here… and I don’t think I’ve been this giddy and scared and anxious and what the hell am I getting myself into? in all my life.
But I love it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
28
I’ve never been to Tenley’s apartment.
She lives on the other side of Sapphire Shores, in a modest but well-kept brick building, probably built in the 1970’s. There are ten identical walkways to identical white doors, the bushes are manicured with pink flowers, and the lawn outside is trimmed with military precision. There’s no flash, just a faded sign outside that says, “Now Renting! Lockwood Manor. 1, 2, and 3 Bedroom Efficiencies!” with a starburst that says, “Starting at $1150!”
Efficient. That’s Tenley. She doesn’t do anything overboard. She uses exactly the right amount to get the job done. She has no one to impress. She uses her leftover money to help other people at the women’s center.
That’s probably why I have a minor crisis of confidence while I’m sitting behind the wheel outside her door.
She’s too good for me. I don’t know why I’m here.
I have never in my life felt that way, except, maybe, when I was growing up poor, letting my dad kick the shit out of me. Back then, I thought that I deserved it. But I realized I had to get over that real quick if I was ever going to make something of myself.
And I need to get over it now. If I want her, and she wants me, and I know we’d be good together, I need to haul my ass out of this car.
The fears all but disappear as I reach her door. I notice a plastic bag from Shaw’s, sitting outside. She’s ordered groceries. Milk… looks like eggs… Cheerios.
Telling myself I’m doing a good deed by alerting her to their presence so they won’t sit outside in the warmth all night, I knock on the door.
She opens it almost immediately, as if she was waiting on the other side for me, which gives me a burst of confidence.
And she looks phenomenal. She’s wearing a little get-up that bares her long pale legs, and her hair is loose on her shoulders. She’s nothing like the Tenley from work, and I get this surge of excitement thinking that I’m one of the few people who gets to see this side of her.
I hold up the bag. “Groceries?”
She stares at them in confusion. “Oh. I thought I ordered them for the morning.”
Reaching forward, she takes them. Sets them down. Returns her eyes to mine.
I’ve always pegged Tenley as someone who knows what she wants. And I’m right, because she doesn’t hesitate. She pulls me to her, kissing me hard, taking my breath away.
Sweet, pristine little Tenley Bayliss. There’s nothing soft, nothing tentative about it. And I love it.
“Is this what you wanted?” she groans, our noses touching.
No. Hell no. I want, need more. She’s tugging at the hem of my shirt, which can mean only one thing.
She’s not nearly as virginal as she said. She wants me, us, naked.
I am more than happy to oblige. I spin her around, pressing her against the door, just like in our fantasies. Still devouring her mouth, I reach down over her thighs and go for the hem of her little dress, but to my disappointment, it’s shorts. Why the hell do they make clothes this way? Undeterred, my hands slide under the fabric, over her bare thighs, and up the delicate curve of her ass. There is nothing else there but a little piece of string masquerading as underwear. I’m instantly as hard as a rock, and I know she can feel my cock pressing against her abdomen.
