Page 83 of No One Else

I’m lost in my thoughts, calculating how much I can sock away for a security deposit on an apartment while also helping Dad with the bills, when Natalie touches my chin, bringing my focus back to her.

“I see your wheels spinning,” she says softly. “Trying to work out some kind of different living arrangement. But one of the things that makes you so great is how loyal you are. I don’t want to get between the loyalty you have to your dad. He’s important too. It’s difficult right now, but our time will come. In the meantime, I’m living for these stolen moments with you, unpredictable as they may be, knowing that one day we’ll have all the time in the world.”

I nod, my throat suddenly tight, loving how she knew exactly what to say, what was going on in my head, how much she gets me.

“And I’m seriously going to talk to Morgan. I think she’s starting to see reason-”

“I love you,” I blurt, the words needing to come out. “I know it was the wrong thing to say before, but I can’t hold it back anymore. Not when I feel more connected to you than I ever have in my life.” I cup her face, taking in those gorgeous green eyes, the dusting of freckles across her nose, the smile curving over her lips. My thoughts from earlier tonight come back to me. The sense of rightness as I first slid into her. The rush of feelings as I came. “You’re it for me, Natalie. There will never be anyone else.”

She gazes back at me, joy radiating off her, the kind of response I was hoping for months ago after my first confession. “No one else,” she promises, kissing me softly. “I love you so much.”

I crush her to me, unable to tell her with words how much that means.

I show her with my body, though, bringing her to a fourth orgasm with my fingers and mouth before we drift off to sleep, and then a fifth in the morning with my cock as she rides me, her voice still hoarse with sleep when she shouts that she’s coming.

I’ll never get enough of this girl. Never.

20

Natalie

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“WHAT DO YOU PLAN ONwearing Saturday?”

Evan looks away from the baseball game on TV and toward me, his eyebrows pinched together. “Saturday?”

“For the gala.”

“That’s this Saturday?”

“Even I know it’s this Saturday,” Pete pipes up from his recliner.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” Evan says, ignoring his dad.

Even though I’m insanely comfortable snuggled into his side on the couch, still in a food coma from the crazy delicious fried meatloaf and roasted potatoes he made for dinner, I get up, grabbing his hand to bring him along with me. “Let’s go see what you have to wear.”

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