But that still leaves me as the villain in our story. I wish I had never gotten that file from Roxy. I wish I knew whether she would have chosen me even if I hadn’t created the ideal circumstances.
I was driven by my obsession with her… one that intensified since we got together, but that has grown into something more.
I’m in love with this woman. And I think she’s in love with me. We’re both scared of the feelings, but fuck, I’m not going to let her go.
Perhaps it’s better I keep my confession for later. After our San Francisco visit. Or never. That seems like the best timeline.
Don’t be a pussy, Stone.
I will tell her everything once we return to New York. I will.
Cora’s leg keeps bouncing. I put my hand on her thigh, and she turns to me, still biting her lip.
“You know I’ll be there with you the whole time. You have nothing to worry about.”
She chuckles. “That’s not what I’m nervous about. I mean, I obviously am anxious about meeting the Stone clan, but I… I thought that—”
She’s uncharacteristically shy about something. “Spill it, woman.”
She leans down to retrieve her ginormous bag and pulls out one of the notebooks.
She places it on her lap, stroking it like the edges of the hard cover need straightening. “You said you wanted to read my stories.” She hands me the notebook.
I look at the small book in her hand, a beat passing before I reach for it. It’s not that I’m worried about reading the story. I saw a snippet in the sunflower notepad.
It’s the trust she’s handing over that makes the 5x8 book feel like it weighs a hundred pounds. “Are you sure?” I try to sound casual. I fail.
She smiles. “Start reading before I chicken out.”
“Thank you.”
She grimaces. “Don’t thank me yet. From what I know, it might be quite terrible.”
“What did I tell you about this constant self-doubt?” I narrow my eyes.
“I don’t recall you saying much about self-doubt. You promised to fuck some confidence into me.” She licks her lips.
“Wanna join the mile-high club?”
Her eyes flash with something dark and exciting, and she shrugs seductively.
I lean in, her scent as intoxicating as ever, and whisper in her ear, “Let me read first, and then I’ll fuck you thoroughly here, Mrs. Stone.”
“Winslow-Stone,” she breathes, the shudder the words elicit hardening my cock.
“Still mine.” I shrug and turn away from her, stretching my legs and crossing them at my ankles before I open her notebook.
My eyes land on the neatly scribbled words, but in my periphery I feel more than see her crossing her legs, pouting.
But she finally decided to trust me with her work—a trust I certainly don’t deserve, but I will take it seriously. It’s more important than getting her off.
And just like that, I forgo sex, because something else feels more important. What has she done to me?
I read, flipping the pages and grinning while Cora adds tapping fingers to her bouncing leg.
When I finally close the notebook, our gazes lock. Hers is full of expectations while she worries her bottom lip.
Mine are full of admiration, I hope. For her beauty. For her talent. For her.
