Page 29 of Resist

I would.

I would like more than to see you, but I’ll take what I can get.

My smile grows. If he can be brave and outspoken, then I can too, right?

I puff out my cheeks and exhale deeply.

I was going to booty call you, but the internet told me I needed to be playful and fun. I don’t know how to be either of those things.

STERLING

I’m on my way.

I can’t help laughing, and I love his enthusiasm.

You don’t even know where I live.

STERLING

It’s all good. I’ll just go door to door in Minneapolis, hell, the whole state of Minnesota if I have to. I’ll knock on doors and ask if a beautiful woman who wants to fuck me lives here. I’ll find you eventually.

Kinda presumptuous to think I’d still be horny when you got here.

Not really, but it sounds less desperate than hurry the fuck up and let me ride you.

STERLING

Is it? I was kind of hoping you were even a little bit wet under that dress yesterday when we bumped into each other.

Foxy told me she told you when we’d be at the club.

STERLING

I appreciated the heads up, I had intended on spending all day there just to wait for a glimpse of you.

His declaration makes my stomach do a flip like I’m a teenager waiting for her prom date.

STERLING

Too much, too fast?

It should be. It’s all a little too lovey-dovey and swoony for me, and I wait a long moment expecting to be struck bythe urge to reach for a bucket to throw up in. Except it doesn’t.

I don’t want to pick apart what that might mean. I want to fuck this man, not marry him. Though, if the man I’m forced to marry to appease my father’s jury is half as hot as Sterling, I could get used to seeing his face every day. I could definitely endure that hardship.

STERLING

Fuck. I’m sorry. I knew I should have kept that part to myself. I just wanted to see you again, that’s all. As creepy, stalkery, privacy invading as it sounds, it’s true. You’re an enigma. I like the sound of your voice, I think you’re a breathtakingly beautiful woman, and I’m determined to make you laugh at some point. For real.

Call me over-eager, call me pathetic or too forward, or whatever else someone might say to me word-vomiting in a text on a Sunday afternoon, but those are my cards. I liked spending time with you, and I’d like to spend more time with you. I liked eating your pussy, and I’d love it if you’d let me do that again too, but no pressure. For either of those things.

Christ. Sorry. I can’t seem to stop my thumbs from just... I’m shutting up now. Going to sit on my hands so I can’t embarrass myself anymore.

It’s fine. I’ll see myself out.

Would another egg pun save me? Or make things more awkward right now? My brain is scrambled.

I’m laughing by the time his last message lands. I’m not usually one to be enamored by a bumbling idiot, but again,there’s something adorable about the fact that he’s stumbling over his thumbs. I like that I knock him off balance. Or... whatever this is.

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