“Forget the coffee,” I breathe out huskily, crooking my finger at him with a cheeky smile. The words are just barely out of my mouth before he barrels into me at full speed, easily tossing my naked ass over his shoulders and spanking it playfully as he walks us into the naturally lit bathroom. My giggles fill the small space until they quickly morph into throaty moans, desperate pleas, plenty of f-bombs, and a few praises of the good Lord.
“Told you I’d break it,” he whispers into my wet hair as he’s drying it off, smug smirk evident in his voice.
Asshole.
But not a liar.
He obliterated my so-called restraint, all right.
Three times.
***
“You ready for this?” Ben asks I stare down the stairs leading to the New York City Subway. We’ve been standing here for a few minutes. I’m clinging to Ben’s hand as I prepare myself for this brave new world. Impatient New Yorkers with permanent scowls bump into me without apology. The air smells like trash and the best pizza I will ever have—a fact I can attest to as of last night. Yes, I may have broken my veganism. It was a weak moment. But so fucking worth it.
Everything here is so fast. Loud. Unhindered. With Portland, there is a certain ease to the city. But here, I feel like I’m a foreigner.
I kinda love it.
After our first day, we spent the following few days unpacking, gorging on take-out, and fucking on any surface that would hold our weight. I’m deliciously sore and blissfully suffering from sex-cabin-fever. Just thinking about it, I almost want to turn back around and go for another round. Ben must here my thoughts because he squeezes my hand and mutters, “Later.”
I sigh and he chuckles under his breath.
It wasn’t easy leaving our love-nest, but we decided it was time. We have many stops to make today. Which is why we’re standing here at eight-fucking-thirty in the morning on a Saturday. Our objective is to do as much predictable, touristy shit we can by sundown, and then we have reservations at Chop—the latest hot spot right now, which happens to be owned by Jake’s close friend and star chef Nathanial James, who Ben shadowed during the year he spent here. I’m wired, nervous about riding the subway but also excited as hell, knowing our first stop is Tiffany’s—well, second, since we’re going to grab donuts first so, you know…you get it.
The excitement is rapidly exceeding my nerves. So, with a deep breath, I squeeze Ben’s hand, throw my shoulders back, and nod.
“Ready.”
I feel like an idiot for being so scared. Sure, the subway is a claustrophobic germaphobe’s nightmare, but it’s filled to the brim with eclectics—a wide diversity that you just don’t see in most places, Portland included.
We spend most of the trip people-watching. Drumming up backstories for the other riders, giggling whenever we see something odd (which was often, and that’s coming from two Portlanders), and engaging in some light but still pussy-tingling PDA.
Like us, our first subway ride is perfect—in our own way.
Odd.
Exhausting.
Exhilarating.
Promising.
Dirty.
And dope as fuck. It brings a smile to my face.
“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks. His arm is draped around me, fingers absently twirling around an errant curl as his head tilts and his green eyes literally sparkle while he studies me curiously.
“This.”
“This?”
I look up to him and my smile grows even wider, if possible. Goddess, he really is beautiful. And he’s mine. Go. Me. My hand lifts and I brush the back of my palm against his scruffy jaw. “This,” I repeat. “This weird, fascinating, congested subway. Our dollhouse-sized apartment that smells like ramen. This city and the promise it holds. You. Goddess damn it, you make me the happiest of all. I feel like we’re finally—”
“Home,” he finishes with a warm smile and soft, knowing eyes that caress my soul.
“Yeah, home.” I curl into his embrace further and he pulls me in close, promising to never let go again.
And that’s a promise he keeps.
Forever.
Ben motherfucking Catalano-Moretti.
My sneaky bastard. My asshole. My childhood friend. My ex-enemy. My love. My heart. My home.
My future.
My everything.
Yeah, I think I’m going to like New York.
The End.
More words from yours truly…
Gaaaah! I FINISHED! Hallelujer! Holy mother effer, this one took me a minute to finish. And by minute, I mean a year and a freaking half! But whoop here it is! I can’t believe I am done. There were times when I didn’t think I would finish at all. There were days I did not want to finish. I literally thought of scrapping this at least twenty times.
For those of you who don’t know me personally or don’t follow me on social media, not only was my family dealing with our fourth deployment and as I type, our fifth while writing this sucker, my oldest son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes a little over a year ago. We’re still trying to get the hang of things and get used to this life change and new routines and learning the ins and outs and do’s and don’ts of Diabetes. But thankfully, London is doing well, healthy and happy, although we’re dealing with real life tween angst and a little push back but we’re handling it and underneath all that tweenage is one hell of a kid. It helps that I have an amazing husband who may be in Korea right now while we’re in good ole Tennessee but the dude is there, always. He steps up without me asking. He listens to me rant, and cry, and just completely lose my shit, allowing me to wallow in my half empty glass but then he’ll say a few words of support and all the good vibes and I’m yearning to be a glass half full kind of girl. He’s the kind of man we write about. The best of the best book boyfriends. But he’s real. And he’s mine.
Can I get an amen?
Anyway, so yeah, it’s been insanity in the Hopkins house. I mean let’s be real, it’s always freaking crazy with the four boys (especially boy number 4, homie be an a-hole at least 60 percent of the time) but it definitely reached it’s crescendo this past year. I’m waiting patiently-ish for a reprieve. We’ll get it. But in the meantime, I will finish this series. I promise you’ll get a Dylan-Miles book. I had planned on a novella but I might have to make it a bit longer. More like two hundred pages? I just think there is so much more story there than a novella can offer. But we’ll see. To be honest, I actually took a step away from that piece and started writing the story of Delaware King, who I mentioned in this book. Rockstar who tries to win back his childhood sweetheart while working with Angeleigh on his comeback album. The idea has been stuck in my head for two years and I can’t wait to start click-clacking and bring it to life. Who doesn’t love a good redemption story? I also plan on writing a series about the tattoo shop owned by Jacks. He has a story to tell and so do his staff. So, although this is almost the end of the Falling In series, these fantastically flawed people will still be very much connected with the next few projects.
I’m just not ready to let go yet.
I hope you aren’t as well.
I know this book is a little different than the previous few. More on the YA side with a dabble of Adult Contemporary. It wasn’t really my intention but it’s just the way the story flowed. I didn’t want to throw in a bunch of sex scenes because we’re dealing with two young adults—one of whom is a virgin, both dealing with a flurry of emotions they aren’t equipped to handle. It just didn’t seem right to me, you know? But maybe, just maybe I’ll add a bonus scene in Falling Down. Or Cady and Ben could eventually have their own novella … I’m game if you are.
As always, there are people I would like to thank who helped make this book possible. I mentioned him before, you know that awesome dude I get to call my husband, David. Babe, our marriage, our partnership, inspires me every day. You always have my back. Never shy of encouragement when I feel like no one will ever read my work and if they do, they’ll ha
te it. That’s when your hugs and forehead kisses come in. They give me life, boo. Thank you for being my best friend and so much more. You’re my person. My Jake Ryan. My John Bender. My Duckie. I love you so effing much.
Kyla Stein, you are a beast. I don’t know how you got through this thing so damn fast but I’m so thankful you did. As always, you elevated my work. You make me look so much better than I really am. You are damn talented and beautiful inside and out. I truly value your opinions and always look forward to reading your comments. I absolutely adore you and I am so thankful I have you in my corner, girl. You’re the best editor a girl could ask for.
To my all my friends and family, thank you for buying my books, leaving reviews, sharing and showing me love and support on social media. You have no idea how much that means to me. To know that I have all of you beside me during this terrifying adventure, it makes putting my words out there seem a whole lot less panty-wettingly (not in a good way) scary. You guys are just dope as fudge and I love ya’ll to pieces.
To anyone who decides to take a chance on a self-published no-name author with very few but really great reviews, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again but it is not easy to reach new readers and bloggers, especially in this genre. There are so many of us romantics to choose from—brilliant known writers. But some of the unknowns are pretty damn great too. So, I truly appreciate you giving my books a try, even if you don’t like them. But I really freaking hope you do!
With that said, reviews are life. Especially to indie and/or self-published authors. They are crucial and we can’t survive without them. The more reviews we get, the more possible readers we reach. So please leave a review. It doesn’t even have to be long, just a little something-something so this girl can get a little more love and exposure. I would seriously appreciate it and you would definitely become my favorite person.
All right. Enough said. No more words. I need to catch up on TV now.
How to Get Away with Murder, I’m ready for you.
And I’m bringing wine.
All the wine.
Much love,
Andrea
P.S. Oh, and you should totally follow me on Facebook and Instagram! I would love you forever!
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/indieauthorandreahopkins
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stories/indieauthorandreahopkins/
Thanks so much, homies!
Falling Over (Falling In Series Book 3) Page 38
