Page 11 of Broken Grump

He smiles with a sigh. “Okay.”

He continued to kiss me after that, and his tongue managed to slip inside my mouth a few times.

Jesus.I can still remember the feeling of delight I felt asIwas fooling around with him.

Then came time for him to pull his shirt over his head and discard it onto the floor. I wanted to scream with joy, and his body was just as defined and perfect as I pictured it would be.

“Your turn,” he suggests with raised eyebrows.

“Okay.” We’re both laying horizontal at that point, and I try my best to wriggle underneath his heavy weight as I take my top off.

“Do you need help with that?”

“What? Oh.” I answer my own question when I looked down and remember I’m wearing a sports bra.

Oh, God. How incredibly unsexy of me.But he never made me feel any type of way about it, and lifted it up and over my head.

Next, it was the time to remove our pants and underwear.

“You’re sure your parents are out of town?”

I was still kissing his neck when I reiterated, “My mom is at a premiere, and my abuelo is out of town on business.”

“Okay, Okay.”

When we were both bottomless, he paused again before inserting himself inside of me. I was burning for him so badly at that point that I almost wanted to choke him for making me wait any longer.

“This isn’t your first time, is it?” he asks.

I shake my head.Now, stick it in!I want to experience what it is like to have him fill me up.

“And—and you’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” After that, I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him in.

“Oh, Addie,” he moans against my ear after a few thrusts.

I remember it all so well that it feels like I’m watching a movie.

“Addie?” Aunt Melissa’s voice brings me back to reality. My front teeth are hovering over my bottom lip, and I shake my head and flutter my eyelashes to return again into my 31-year-old body.

“Sorry.”

She inhales sharply and pats my thigh. “It’s okay. It’s an emotional day for all of us.”

Oh, you have no idea.The lastfewdays have been taxing. I never thought I’d step foot into this study or see Hayden again.

As usual, my mother is “fashionably late” and came in with just minutes to spare. Just before an older man with a Cartier bracelet and a Rolex started reading out Abuelo’s last will and testament.

“Thank you all for being here. I’m Steven Sawyer, and I’m here to represent Mr. Flores’ will,” the lawyer says, picking up a stapled document off his desk.

“You’re welcome,” my mother is the first to say.

My fists clench, and my aunt clutches my knee. Her reassuring touch makes me calm down a bit, and I start breathing deeply.

“Okay, so I’ll start with Erin Flores—”

“That’s me!” my younger cousin exclaims while raising her hand.

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