Page 193 of Catfish

Reagan pulls herself out of my grip and laces her small fingers through mine.

I don’t want her to feel bad for me. Sometimes I’m grateful for what my father has done because it made me stronger, more aware of what this world really is. It yanked the naivety right out of my soul and opened up my eyes.

And the last thing I want Reagan to be is hurt by it too, even though she's already had her fair share. Which further extends those red flags because I'm afraid if I become president, all my demons will come out to play—publicly. Because the reality of my dream comes with everything else that is tied and drawn into it.

Hence why I think I’m living a dream right now and should let her go. Pay her out of the contract and send her on her way.

“Shit like that makes you stronger,” my father advises as my heart tightens in my chest from the idea of breaking everything off with Reagan. “You’re more effective and bold after all of it. You wouldn’t be half the man you are now if I hadn’t pushed you in the right direction.”

My eyes tighten around him. “Did you want a ‘thank you’?”

He scoffs, shaking his head in exasperation as he stands from his seat. "I'm hoping one day we can put all of this behind us and start anew. Working together, we'd be a force to be reckoned with."

“I’ll keep that in mind.” My father nods. “Then set the shit on fire.”

My father, being the professional that he is in public, turns on his heels and leaves my office. He won’t bellow out orders in front of me for my whole office to hear, he’ll wait until we’re alone with a few more threats to bestow on me.

The minute the door sweeps shut, Reagan is on her knees in between my thighs and looking up at me.

“You okay?”

I give her a weak grin. “Yeah.”

“He is an asshole." A light chuckle leaves my lips, and I pull her towards me to give her room to stand.

"Nothing you'll ever have to worry about." Her brows knit, but it's true.

I’d never let Reagan in the same room with Henry Lockwood or anyone else in my immediate family.

She means too much.

? In The Closet — Michael Jackson ?

My back is rammed into drywall with the ugliest-looking wallpaper I’ve ever seen in my life. But it’s the hot breath on my neck that pulls me out of the 1980’s decor in the small coat closet I was dragged into. The large hands on my hips that inch up the baby blue cocktail dress I’m wearing tonight, dragging it up over my knees and higher so that he can touch what he wants so badly.

“How did you do this?” he mutters, kissing the back of my jawline near my ear. “I hate birthday parties.”

“Emmy,” I reply, letting my hands drift under the jacket of his suit and down the cotton of his dress shirt. The rigid curves of his tight torso beckon for me to pull it from underneath his expensive pants and feel the skin that lies underneath.

“I’m going to fire her,” Wade carps, pressing another long kiss down the column of my neck. A chuckle leaves my lips, fully aware he wouldn’t last a day, along with his staff, without her.

“Be nice,” I chide. “She loves you.” Cool air sweeps over my upper thighs and panties as Wade’s hand appears along the lace hem. His index finger hooks around them and pulls it to the side, coursing anticipation throughout my body.

We shouldn't be here at his surprise birthday party making out in an abandoned part of the hall I rented out while people are more than likely looking for him, but I wanted a moment. We've barely spoken all night, only exchanged a few glances at each other from across the room. I haven't even said happy birthday nor chastised him for not mentioning that it was coming up.

Not that that’s surprising.

“I’ll just take it out on you,” he growls while his knuckles brush my folds. “I like you more.”

“You just like my dresses and how my body molds them out.”

"I definitely like your body." A kiss to my throat. "And how you fill those fuck-me dresses out." A kiss to my chin. "But, I love your smartass mouth more."

His lips collide with mine while I'm a tangled mess of the euphoria I feel for this man. His chest makes sure there is no space between us. And the word "love" that just spilled from his lips—it changes my body temperature. It warms my insides to the point of being uncomfortable because I haven't fully wrapped my head around my feelings for Wade yet.

I’m strongly attracted to him, the sight of him releases those pet butterflies of mine, and they won’t leave. I can’t even kick them out because I love the feeling and being crushed against him.

His fingers strum my clit as his tongue evades my mouth, and I'm fucked.

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