Hooking my finger through the fabric, I pull it aside to discover what I really want.
“So fucking beautiful, Brit. And so fucking mine.”
“Argh.”
I surge forward and fill her to the hilt on my final word, just to prove a point. Not that she needs it. She knows who she belongs to.
My hand wraps around her hip, my fingers digging into her skin as I begin to piston in and out of her.
She locks her elbows and pushes from the wall as I take her.
“Fuck, Jake. Fuck,” she chants.
Reaching forward, I twist her long blond locks around my hand and pull until she has no choice but to arch her back.
The move allows me to take her deeper.
“Oh, oh… shiiiiit,” she cries, falling over the edge in record time.
Unable to hold out any longer as her pussy clamps down around me, I growl out my release as my cock twitches violently inside her.
“Fuck, Brit.” I gather her up in my arms. Both our chests heave with exhaustion as we try to catch our breaths.
Seconds later, a car door slams outside and the doorbell rings.
“Perfect timing, don’t you think?”
“She’s going to take one look at us and know exactly what we were doing,” Amalie says, making quick work of straightening her clothing.
“I hate to burst your bubble, baby, but I’m pretty sure she’s known what we’ve been up to for a while.” A smirk appears on my lips. There’s no way she’s oblivious to me sneaking into Brit’s room night after night and doing all kinds of wicked things to her. Her gran is not an idiot.
“Oh stop.” She swats my shoulder playfully. “Go and answer the door. I need to clean up.”
Chapter Two
Amalie
Swiping my bag from the floor, I walk through to the adjoining en suite bathroom, shaking my head as I do.
This is my house. I own this place.
It’s unbelievable.
Everything about my life in the past few months is pretty bloody unbelievable.
By some weird turn of events, I snagged Rosewood’s most eligible bachelor despite the fact he wanted to ‘end me’ or whatever bullshit he spewed at me when I first arrived. And now here we are, living together in a house I bought.
Thankfully, I find a packet of tissues in my bag seeing as this house has literally nothing inside it right now, not even a roll of toilet paper.
I clean myself up after that little impromptu christening of our new bedroom. I’m not sure why I’m surprised that it was the first thing he wanted to do almost the second we were inside.
Hearing voices downstairs, I wash my hands, drying them on my skirt before heading out.
The second I look at my gran who’s in the living room, looking around, everything I’m trying to push down bubbles up.
A lump forms in my throat and my eyes burn with sadness.
The house has been a great distraction from this time of year and everything it drags up for me, but now that we’re here, I fear that I’m going to have to deal with my reality.
It’s almost Christmas. No matter how much I pray that it’s going to pass me by, I know it’s not and in only a matter of days, I’m going to have to try to figure out how to celebrate what used to be my favorite time of the year without the two people who made it what it was.
A noise escapes my throat and alerts Gran that I’m here.
She spins, her eyes finding mine immediately. They soften as if she can read my mind before she walks over and wraps me in her arms.
Part of me is relieved she didn’t look at me and immediately know what just happened upstairs, but I can’t help but wonder if that would be easier to deal with.
She doesn’t say anything, and I couldn’t be more grateful because I can’t help feeling like having to talk about it will only make it more painful.
When she eventually releases me, she looks into my tear-filled eyes for a beat and nods.
“So, are you going to show me around?”
Her own sadness never leaves her and reminds me that I’m not the only one going through this right now. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t rush this move. The thought of leaving her alone over the holiday season fills me with dread, but she assured me that we were to move in and embark on our new lives when I got the call that we could get the keys today.
“Of course.”
I show her the downstairs and point out where we’re considering putting the furniture when most of it arrives tomorrow while Jake keeps himself busy carrying box after box from both mine and Gran’s cars.
“Don’t worry, I don’t need any help,” he shouts as we make our way upstairs.
“It’s about time you made yourself useful,” I call back down.
“You weren’t saying that a few minut—”
“Jake,” I snap, cutting off his words before he announces to my gran what happened in our bedroom not so long ago.
His chuckle of amusement floats up to us. I know how much he loves torturing me. It’s one of the things he’s not been able to stop since he first set out on his mission to make me leave, only now, he just tortures me until I scream his name.
My cheeks are flushed red when Gran looks back at me with a knowing smile on her lips.
“Just because you’ve got your own house now, it doesn’t mean I’m old enough to be a great-grandmother.”
“Thank god for that because there’s no way we’re old enough to be parents.” My words make me think of Chelsea and her very small bump. I should hate her, but life’s too short to hold that kind of grudge. She’s said her peace, and I’m more than happy to put everything in the past. We’ve all got enough on our plates; we don’t need to put effort into disliking each other on top of everything else. It’s much easier if we can just all be friends. It might not have been so easy if she didn’t create said baby with one of my closest friends.
I show Gran the bedrooms, en suite, and family bathroom before we head back down to help Jake.
Although our furniture isn’t coming until tomorrow, I’ve been collecting everything else we might need over the past few months and filling Gran’s house with it. I think she’s more than ready to get rid of the boxes that are in every available space.
It’s going to take us a few trips this weekend, but I’m hoping that by our housewarming party on Christmas Eve, that we’ll have everything sorted.
“I didn’t realize that finding homes for everything in a kitchen was so stressful,” I say to Jake, who’s got his hip resting against the counter and his phone in his hand.
“Huh?”
“Can you help me, please?” I want all this put away before we make our bed up.
“I am helping,” he argues.
I lift a brow at him and wait for him to drag his eyes from whatever is so exciting on his phone.
His eyes widen slightly when he does look up.
He pockets his phone and walks my way, his eyes darkening and his steps turning predatory. “Jake,” I warn, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.
“Brit, baby. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. We’ve got the whole weekend to sort this place out. Deciding where the plates go really isn’t that big of a deal.”