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I hear the tremor in her voice. Calls like this are never easy. The hours that follow are even more challenging. “I’m on my way.”

Faith slides to her feet before I end the call.

I take notice of the way her ample tits bounce under the sweatshirt she’s wearing. Judging by the outline of her furled nipples, she’s not wearing a bra.

“I need to go to the clinic,” I say as though she’s not aware.

She reaches for her backpack to slide the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll head home. Thank you for dinner, Dr. Hawthorne.”

“Matthew,” I say, half wishing I could hear her call me Dr. Hawthorne when she’s on her knees right before I slide my cock between those plump pink lips.

“Matthew,” she repeats in barely more than a whisper. “I hope the patient will be all right.”

“Me too.”

I stare at her, wishing like hell that this evening wasn’t ending so soon. I know this is wrong. It can’t happen again.

Faith Upton is forbidden fruit.

She’s too young for me, far too innocent for my touch, and the student of a friend.

“I’ll see you around,” she says with a smile.

I watch her make her way out of the pizza place. My eyes linger on her ass before I drop my gaze to the floor.

I need to forget about her and every word she wrote in that diary about me, including the fact that she wants to feel the bite of my teeth on the flesh of her perfect ass.

Chapter Twelve

Faith

It’s been almost a week since I had pizza with Matthew, and any lingering doubt I had about whether or not he read the juiciest parts of my diary has all but evaporated.

I’ve replayed our dinner together in my mind over and over again. Our conversation was light hearted and fun. There wasn’t anything sinister about it, and I didn’t catch him staring at me in shocked horror, which I’m sure he would have had he read some of my diary entries.

I’ve reread a few of them, and although they rate a five out of five on the blush factor scale, I’m secure in my belief that I’m the only one who has ever laid eyes on them.

“You look hot as fuck,” Gwynn says as she walks into my bedroom. “I told you that dress was the winner.”

I have to agree.

I asked Gwynn to come home with me after class today to help me pick out what to wear for my dinner with Sadie tonight.

I explained to my best friend that I wanted to look sophisticated. She immediately suggested that we take a detour to the apartment she shares with three of our classmates so I can raid her closet, but Gwynn is six inches taller than me, and our bodies are completely different.

I was able to steer her in the direction of my apartment with a promise that she could do my makeup for the evening.

That was all it took to get her here.

I spin in a circle to show off the fitted black dress I’m wearing. “I’ve had this dress for three years.”

“I can see why.” She lets out a low whistle. “It clings in all the right places.”

I smile at the compliment. “What shoes should I wear?”

She marches over to my closet to look at the three pairs of heels I brought from Hartford.

She picks up the red pumps before she places them down in favor of sky-high black heels. “These are the ones.”

Unsure if I can walk in them, I grimace. “Really? You do remember that I’m meeting a married female doctor for dinner, right? A friend. This isn’t a date.”

Kneeling in front of me, she coaxes me to shove my right foot into one of the shoes. “I’m well aware, but there will be at least a few men checking you out, so why not make the most of that? You might leave there with a full belly and a hard cock.”

I almost double over in laughter. “I won’t be leaving there with a hard cock.”

After motioning for me to grab hold of her shoulder to balance myself while I slip on the other shoe, she glances at my face. “You don’t know that. Have some faith, Faith.”

I smile at that. “Is it makeup time? You’re not going to go overboard, right?”

Bouncing to her feet, Gwynn skims her fingertips over my chin. “I’m going to accentuate what you already have. A smoky eye, light lipstick, and the smallest amount of blush.”

Relieved that she’s on the same page as I am, I lean forward to kiss her cheek. “You’re the best.”

She winks. “I know it.”

“How can food taste this good?” I ask before I rest my fork on the empty plate in front of me. “I think every bite was better than the last.”

Sadie Reynolds lets out a light laugh. “I agree with that assessment, Faith.”


Tags: Deborah Bladon The Hawthornes of New York Romance