Possessive Writer: An Instalove Age Gap Romance by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari [Ferrari, Flora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Tanner

After Tess’s shift, we walk through the park together, the late day sun shining down on us as we stroll hand in hand. I expect to feel strange holding hands with a woman – at least, I always thought I would when I became this intimate – but Tess isn’t just any woman.

Holding onto her feels right.

In fact, it feels like I never want to let go.

We walk toward the pond, ducks quacking loudly as they float across. Her hand is warm in mine and together we turn to watch a family feeding the ducks, a little boy with a gap-toothed grin on his face throwing breadcrumbs into the water.

Tess turns to me, her eyebrows raised, a little sweaty from work.

I’d have her no other way.

Human, real, sexy as hell in her barista’s outfit, the caramel shirt clinging onto her take-me form, her tights and skirt clasping onto her thighs, making me jealous and possessive because I should be fucking grabbing them.

“Yes,” I say, reading the look she gives me. “That’ll be us one day.”

She laughs strangely.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just insane, isn’t it? I met you less than a week ago – you’re my teacher – and yet when you tell me that I’m going to have your baby one day, I don’t feel like running for the hills. How does that work?”

I grin savagely and loop my arms around her waist, pulling her close to feel the press of our bodies.

Her heartbeat is hammering, reverberating through me. Her skin pricks with goosebumps and she bites her lower lip.

Every time she bites her lip, I want to roar like a warlord and take her as my prize.

“You know how,” I snarl. “There’s something inside of me and something inside of you telling us that this is right. We’re fated to be together. And yeah, it’s true, I never believed in fate before you came along. But you’ve changed me.”

Not as far as the writer’s block is concerned, a voice murmurs in my mind.

I didn’t get a single meaningful word written sitting in the cafe, but that might’ve had something to do with how compelling it was to sit and watch Tess stand at the coffee machine, steam shrouding her, making her look magical, captivating.

I lean down and kiss her, tasting her lips and her desire.

We continue walking down around the pond, now with my arm wrapped over her shoulders, hugging her close.

We’re about to complete the circuit when somebody gasps from the bench beside us.

“Tanner Telford, oh my God, is that really you?”

I turn to find a thirty-something woman sitting there, wearing way too little it seems to me. I’ve never been a fan of the way some women dress as though trying to wear as few clothes as possible. There’s no judgment there, it just does nothing for me, and in my experience, it seems to always attract the wrong sort of man.

This woman wears fishnet stockings, an insanely short black skirt, and a tank top that shows the straps of her pink bra.

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