Amara's POV I wasn't allowed my phone, extra carbs, or even a window for ventilation as I was forced to get ready in the largest supply closet which was only mildly larger than a personal bathroom. Even so, I was forced to come out between the mops and cleaning supplies looking like I came off of some red carpet. Even if my dress came off the runway and my makeup was expensive enough to sell and make a life of my own without a loan, I was beyond trapped. The dress was tight. The new ring on my left hand was heavy. And as the last step to my look was a veil I refused to put in, I hesitated. Surely Jackson was protecting me somehow. He would come in minutes before the wedding or even seconds after it started. His words when we were alone were too honest to not be followed through when he was called on them. But as I looked at my reflection in the metallic plate that once held keys before me, I only saw a foolish girl getting her hopes up on some antinquidated fairytale

Amara's POVI wasn't staring for my benefit. Especially not at the tattoos that flexed along with him in any and every small movement. Nope, I was watching him to make sure he was not going to do something shady when he thought I was asleep. It was why I was currently across the room in a chair a safe distance away from him. Because even if I was too stubborn to admit it aloud, whenever I was in his orbit, he made it difficult to focus on anything but him. More specifically, the way he made me want to trust him. But I couldn't. For too many reasons to count. And the longer I was enclosed with him, none of them seemed to matter. “How long are you going to stare at me baby?” His voice shifted my eyes from the form curve of his ass that I had been deep in thought while multitasking and admiring. I didn't dignify him with an answer as I picked up my feet and marched into the bathroom. This was my third shower in twelve hours as each one was taken as an excuse. “Wh

Amara’s POVHe changed again. Only this time back to the boy I left behind fifteen years ago. The one who was unsure of himself in every aspect except the fact he'd never have me. It made me want to reach across the car and shake some sense into him. If he would have given me the truth then maybe I would have been able to see beyond the lies and the games. But as he just stared, forfeiting , and it left yet another tally in a string of reasons to why the fissures between us would remain. “Where are we?” I asked as we'd driven too far out of town to be anywhere I could recognize. But the headlights illuminated the front of a small house brought to life by the flowers in pots and gnomes spread throughout. An arch led to a pathway made of stone that came to the front steps made up of lattice on the sides. It was quaint and delicate, everything Jackson wasn't. “You deserve the truth, Amara. You'll find it inside.”“You're not coming?” “It's better f

Amara's POVA date. Considering how the last one ended, I wasn't exactly eager even though the last three days were spent with relentless persuasion. Kisses on the neck kind of persuasion. Dirty words in the ear kind of persuasion. So I relented and was now currently on my mother's couch as she helped me go through some of her clothes for the perfect outfit. Despite the fact the majority of her clothes showed our difference in age, there were a few pieces I could put together. The neckline of one dress could be manipulated into a stunning belt for the skirt of another garment. Ideas similar to this came out as a river in my mind as I sketched the plan while my mother taught me to sew. The lines may not have been perfect but the vision came to completion just in time to get ready for the date itself. “I like to think this is how your prom would have been like.” She commented while putting the final curl in my hair. “I'd also like to thin

Amara’s POVAs most women thought about their wedding, I thought about my first time. More specifically, what it would feel like when waking up that next morning when the heat of the moment subsided and reality returned. I conjured the idea of being made breakfast or even being run a bath to soak against my lover's chest. As I became older the fantasy was shifted into an understanding that the loss of my virtue would be the same business arrangement as my wedding day. I didn't expect much more than maybe distance as I climbed out of bed that next morning. But like always, Jackson blew all of my expectations and made them into perfect memories. His arm kept me as a little spoon in front of his naked body while his cock came to life, hard and thick, as I adjusted to my consciousness. The raspy groan of a morning tone made my skin chill as a possessive hand tugged me even closer to his chest. “Do you regret it?” He asked into my hair