Page 49 of The Good Girl

“So, how’s the book coming along?”

“Good. I’m almost done. I can’t remember the last time a book’s flowed this easily.”

“Maybe I should kidnap you more often.”

She glares at me, and I chuckle, taking a bite of my food.

She lifts her fork and groans as she takes a mouthful of food, and fuck, if that doesn’t make my cock throb.

“This is so good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

We eat in comfortable silence. When she stands to grab the plates, I stop her. “I’ve got it. You go pick the movie or game. Whatever you want.” I smile at the dumbfounded look on her face and carry the dishes to the kitchen.

After I finish washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, I microwave some popcorn and grab a couple of bottles of waterfrom the fridge. Once the popcorn’s done, I walk to the couch and sit down next to her, setting the bottles on the table.

“I feel like watching a movie. But we can do games tomorrow, maybe?”

“Whatever you want.” I lean back, place the popcorn on my lap, and wrap my arm around her, pulling her so her head rests on my chest. She hits play on the remote and snuggles in closer.

I should’ve known she was up to something—she was being just a little too sweet. Instead, I’m halfway throughThe Notebookwhen I realize she played me.

“Enjoying the movie?”

“Sure am,” I say, even though I know she’s trying to make me suffer.

AfterThe Notebook, we watchHow to Lose a Guy in Ten Daysand thenNotting Hill. I didn’t even know I had these DVDs. There must’ve been a bunch of Lola’s in the box I brought here.

I look down to ask if she’s done torturing me but find her fast asleep. I watch her for a moment. This—her tucked into me—is what I’m fighting for—these unguarded moments when she gravitates toward me.

I turn off the TV and ease out from underneath her, picking her up and carrying her to bed. She stirs when I take her clothes off but doesn’t say anything. She reaches for me, her mouth finding mine in the dark.

I strip out of my own clothes and pull her on top of me, positioning myself at her entrance. I ease myself inside her, slow and steady, until I’m buried completely. Her warmth wraps around me, and for a moment, nothing else matters.

She murmurs something but doesn’t move. I run my fingers up and down her back as my eyes drift closed, ever conscious that time is not on my side.

The next eight days flew by, but something shifted after our movie night. Nevaeh let her guard down. She let me in. And even though I hate talking about myself, I did the same.

We got to know each other during the day, talking and sharing pieces of ourselves, and our nights were spent tangled in each other. But now, on day thirteen, there’s this desperation in our lovemaking—like we’re trying to hold on to every moment and make every second count. I’m worried it’s Nevaeh’s way of saying goodbye.

With her head resting on my chest, she trails her fingers across my skin, tracing my tattoos, teasing the scattering of hair.

She pauses when she reaches the twisted thorns over my heart. “Is that a cupcake?”

I grin, wondering when she would spot it. Most people only notice the thorns, not the tiny cupcake they’re protecting.

“I told you, you were meant for me.”

“And you got a prison tattoo to mark the occasion huh? You sure know your way to a girls heart,” she teases.

I roll her over and tickle her making her laugh and wriggle trying to get free.

“Mercy, mercy!” She gasps as I kiss her.

Pulling back, I tuck her hair behind her ear, so I can memorize every freckle on her face before I roll back over and tug her into my arms.

A comfortable silence settles over the room for a few minutes before she speaks again.

---