Page 131 of Small Town Firsts

“It’s okay, Dina. I was hurt, but…I get why y’all did it. My parents—as you know—are so much like Mr. Larson. I really just want to put all of it behind us.”

“I’ve always liked you, AJ. I’m very happy you’re back in Brock’s life. You’re good for him.” As much as I don’t seek approval from others, I beam at her words.

“What about Dad?” Brock asks, addressing the elephant in the room. “What now?”

“I’ve already met with the lawyer and thanks to our ironclad prenup, it should be a fairly easy process. He’ll be by tomorrow to finish packing his things and soon we’ll be rid of him altogether.”

“I’m proud of you, Mom.”

“Not as proud as I am of you, honey.”

In the weeks after Engagemageddon,Brock and I manage to merge our lives seamlessly. Without the added pressure from his father, he was able to drop his weekend lessons and cut down on his volunteer hours, and he’s now working with his advisor on his major.

We still study together twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And as of last week, I see him every day, seeing as he moved into my apartment. His reasoning was we had already spent too much time apart—between our lost school-aged years and the week we do our best not to discuss—and to be honest, it was an easy sell.

Especially with finals and graduation looming on the horizon. That shit is sure to keep us busy. Not to mention, falling asleep next to him is no fucking hardship. And waking up tohis mouth between my legs is the best alarm clock known to mankind.

EPILOGUE

AJ - A FEWMONTHS LATER

Within an hour of receiving our diplomas—Brock’s in education, not poli-sci, mind you—we were on a private plane—a graduation gift from Brock’s mom—Vegas bound. Because what screamsFUCK, YES! WE MADE IT, LET’S CELEBRATE!louder than the City of Sin? Nothing, that’s what.

About an hour into our flight, I’m kicked back in my oversized reclining seat, reading a sexy as sin book about a man falling for his best friend’s daughter when Brock whispers huskily in my ear, “Wanna join the Mile High Club, firecracker?” The gravel in his tone, combined with the words on the page in front of me, have me rubbing my thighs together.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Why not? It’s just us…” His eyes run over my body, lingering heatedly in all the right places.

“And the crew. And the pilot.”

“Not if we go to the…fuck, what’s the bathroom called on a plane?” He stops and thinks for a moment. “The lavatory! That’s it.”

I try and hold back my laugh but fail epically. He’s so damn cute, and he’s all fucking mine. Mine, mine, mine. Some daysit doesn’t feel real. “Two things, hot shot: One, I’m not fucking you where other people shit. That is nasty. Two, even if I wasn’t worried about the nastiness, you killed the mood when you forgot the word.”

“You’re such a hardass, Abby Jane.” He drops into the seat next to me, pouting like a little boy. “Just wanted to spice shit up.”

“Oh my God. Stop. Spice things up? You make us sound like an old married couple!”

“Would that be so bad?” he asks. “Being married to me?”

“Wouldn’t be bad at all.” I pivot in my seat and kick my feet up into his lap. “In fact, I’m setting a deadline. You have a year to propose, Jockstrap. Plan accordingly.” Brock makes no effort to reply, but he does begin massaging my feet, so I don’t mind.

Before I know it, two and a half hours have passed, and we’re getting ready to make our descent. “Mr. Larson, if you and your guest could power down your electronics, stow your personal belongings, move to an upright position and buckle, that would be amazing.”

“Can do,” Brock tells her, making quick work of following her instructions. Our landing is a little rough, and I grip my man’s hand with all of my strength until we’re safely taxiing down the runway of the small, private airport.

“You ready for an unforgettable trip, Abby Jane?”

“I’m ready for anything with you by my side.”

BROCK

After a few hours of sightseeing and doing touristy shit, Abby Jane and I are back at our hotel—the Bellagio—to rest for a few.I have plans for us tonight, and I know my girl gets cranky when she’s tired.

“Come lay with me?” Abby Janes asks, stripping out of her clothes and crawling up onto the palatial king-sized bed, knocking the lime green silk pillows off as she goes. The swell of her ass tempts me, and when she flips to her back and spreads her legs, I break.

I’m in the bed and on her faster than I can yellfore!I lick, kiss, and bite my way up her smooth, sexy legs until my mouth makes it to the promised land, where I feast on her like a man eating his last meal. By the time I’m finished, my girl’s nothing more than a pile of tired limbs.

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