Too Late by Colleen Hoover Read Online (FREE)
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Warm fingers entwine with mine, pressing my hands deeper into the mattress. My eyelids are too heavy to open from the lack of sleep I’ve had this week. The lack of sleep I’ve had all month, really.
Hell, this whole damn year.
I moan and attempt to squeeze my legs together, but I can’t. There’s pressure everywhere. On my chest, against my cheek, between my legs. It takes me a few seconds to pull my mind out of its sleepy haze, but I’m awake enough to know what he’s doing.
“Asa,” I mumble, irritated. “Get off me.”
He thrusts his weight against me repetitively, groaning against my ear, his morning stubble cutting into my cheek. “I’m almost done, babe,” he breathes against my neck.
I attempt to pull my hands out from beneath his, but he squeezes them tighter, reminding me that I’m nothing more than a prisoner in my own bed, and he’s the warden of the bedroom. Asa has always had a way of making me feel like my body was at his disposal. He’s never mean or forceful about it; he’s just needy—and I find it really inconvenient.
Like right now.
At six o’clock in the damn morning.
I can guess the time by the sunlight peeking through the crack under the door, and the fact that Asa is just now coming to bed after last night’s party. I, however, have to be in class in less than two hours. This isn’t how I would have chosen to be torn from sleep after only three hours of it.
I wrap my legs around his waist and hope he thinks I’m into this. When I act half interested, he gets it over with more quickly.
He palms my right breast and I let out the expected moan, just as he begins to shudder. “Fuck,” he groans, burying his face in my hair, slowly rocking against me. After several seconds, he collapses on top of me and sighs heavily, then kisses my cheek and rolls onto his side of the bed. He stands up and removes the condom and tosses it into the trashcan, then grabs a bottle of water off the bedside table. He brings the bottle to his lips, raking his eyes over my exposed flesh. His lips pull into a lazy grin. “I love that I’m the only one who’s ever been inside that.”
He stands confidently naked by the bed, gulping the last of the water. It’s hard to accept compliments when they come from someone who refers to your body as “that.”
Despite his good looks, he has his faults. In fact, his looks may be the only thing about him I don’t find fault in. He’s cocky, quick-tempered, hard to handle sometimes. But he loves me. He loves the hell out of me. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love him in return. There are so many things I would change about him if I could, but right now he’s all I have, so I deal with it. He brought me in when I had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to. For that reason alone, I put up with him. I have no other choice.