Page 42 of Her Pretty Words

I’m too aroused to feel embarrassed. I nod. He watches me through thick lashes, slowly bringing his lips down. He does so passionately, as if he were kissing my mouth. A sound I’ve never made before fills the room and I turn my head into the comforter, pure bliss swimming through me. His tongue sweeps over the sensitive spot. I cry out. My head is spinning. His name leaves my lips as a moan.

“Yes, Mace,” he encourages.

I feel something against my entrance. I look down and see that it’s his finger. I nod quickly. He curls it into me, pumping the digit in a rhythm that makes the pit of my stomach heat.

“That’s it, baby. Come on my tongue.”

Oh my…His filthy words are sending me over the edge, and Iburst. Pleasure is coursing through my body and my moans fill the room. The waves slowly subside until I’m heavy with relief and all I can feel is my heart beating rapidly. Everything is darkbehind my shut eyes, and I know I’m safe when I feel his hands scoop me against his chest. His arms fold around me and I smile. “Thank you,” I say.

He whispers against my ear, “The pleasure is all mine.” There’s a smirk in his voice. I listen to his breath, mine syncing to his. Exhaustion pulls my eyes shut.

I open them sometime later and realize I’d fallen asleep. Grayson is holding me loosely, and when I look at him, his mouth hangs slightly open. His soft snore makes me suppress a laugh. It’s probably midnight.

I carefully lift his arm off me and creep out of his bed. I pick up the discarded clothes that scatter his room and escape to the bathroom to put them on. The girl staring back at me in the mirror has a smile on her face.

His care in every touch was something I’d never expect from Grayson. Perhaps I’ve only seen the outermost layer of my neighbor. But he peeled it back and showed me more of himself. For some reason, the gentleman from tonight makes me feel differently toward the shameless, arrogant man that I know.

I can’t remember why I ever disliked him. It’s all incredibly confusing.

Once I’m dressed, I go home and crawl into bed with a smile resting on my face.

My lower back begins to ache as I work on my laptop, hunched over with not the best of posture. I mindlessly sip my coffee, going through my manuscript and completing my edits. An email notification pops up, piquing my curiosity since it is addressed to Walter. A few months ago, he signed into his emailon my laptop because he spilled juice all over his. I open his mail.

Your Twinkle verification code is: 128328.

I tilt my head while opening a new browser and searching “Twinkle.” My chest squeezes.Date, meet new people, make friends.My hands are slick as I wipe them on my pants, hesitating with my curser over the website. I inhale a deep breath and click on it, searching Walter’s first and last name. His picture pops up and bile rises to my throat.

I scroll through the photos on his profile, clenching my jaw at the familiar one of him with an arm wrapped around his midsection.My arm.But he cropped me out of the picture from ourengagement party. My eyes land on a single sentence that has the power to knock the wind out of me.

Account created five months ago.

I completely freeze. Paralyzed and forced to stare at the words over and over until they lose all their meaning. Until they are just sounds echoing in my mind. I numbly close my laptop and stare at the wall with my grandparent’s sea treasures. I have no idea how much time goes by, but anger is bubbling up in my chest, desperate for an outlet.

I find the bottle of wine I bought from the store and pop the cork, not bothering to grab a glass. I put it to my lips, taking several swigs until it’s nearly empty. I curl up on the couch with a blanket, feeling slightly dizzy. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but suddenly I look up and it’s dark out. My body weighs a ton as I stand. The floor rushes up to meet me. I let out a curse and push myself back up.

Screw Walter. Screw him and his cruel words and dumb blond hair.I hate him.

I step into my flip flops and stumble my way out the front door.

Chapter 15

Grayson

I’m smiling as I read the very last sentence of Macy’s novel. I set it down on the couch cushion beside me when I hear a muffled voice from out front. I get up and peek through the window to see Macy on my front steps, appearing to be in a heated discussion with someone. She’s all alone. I swing the door open, and she wobbles a little, looking up at me wide-eyed. “Gray-son!” she slurs.

I lift a brow. “Party a little too hard did we, Mace?” I grin.

Her eyes droop in an adorable way. “There’s no party.” She frowns. “Not a fun one at least,” she mumbles.

I open the door wider for her to come in, and she does. I look down, she’s wearing two different flip flops on her feet. I watch her struggle to kick them off, and once she does, she helps herself to my cabinet, grabbing a cup and filling it up with water from my sink. “I’d love some, thanks,” she says.

I chuckle. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Have you ever cheated on someone?” she asks, plopping down on my couch as if it were her own. She sprawls out completely, leaving no room for me. I sit on the coffee table across from her.

“I’ve never had someone to cheat on.”

She frowns. “That’s surprising.”

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