Texts From My Exes Read Online Rachel Van Dyken

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
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Rage—and something else—surged hot through my chest. I shoved him hard. “You don’t let me do anything!”

I shoved again, pounding my fists against him until we stumbled into the living room. My hands grabbed the nearest pillow and I hurled it at his face.

He caught it, dropped it, and lifted his hands like he was facing off in some deranged domestic standoff. Then he grabbed a potted plant.

“Put it down!” I snapped.

“You first,” he said.

“You’re insane!” I launched myself at him anyway. He caught me effortlessly with one arm and slammed me onto the couch. His face hovered above mine, breath hot, jaw bruised, eyes feral, and plant somehow set down unharmed in the process.

“You should’ve run.”

His weight pressed me into the couch cushions, bruised jaw shadowing over me, eyes wild with fury and something darker.

His eyes pinned me, molten and furious, and I felt every nerve in my body light up like a live wire. My heart thrashed in my chest, loud enough I swore he could hear it.

“What happened to talking?” I hissed, shoving at his chest even as his weight pressed me deeper into the couch. “You’re on top of me making empty threats we both know you can’t cash. What is this, Ezra? You get a little taste of your best friend and now nobody else gets a bite?”

His jaw flexed, that dangerous tic I knew too well.

“We covered sharing in kindergarten,” I went on, words tumbling out, sharp and breathless. “You always liked playing fair. So what’s the reason, huh? You say you didn’t know the cameras were in there. And I’m assuming nobody’s watching us now. So tell me—are you just that horny and alone, my little asexual friend, or do you actually⁠—”

He slammed his mouth onto mine, biting my bottom lip so hard I gasped.

“Sometimes,” he growled against my mouth, his breath scorching, his eyes so dark they nearly swallowed me, “I ache to shut you up so bad it hurts worse than the raging erection I get every time you say my name.” I struggled against him. “Besides,” he rasped. “It’s too late now and I’m not leaving until you hear all of me, feel all of me, understand all of me, even if you reject me, publicly shame me and call me names, though let’s draw the line at nerd, still hurts.”

I froze for half a second, lips throbbing where he’d bitten me. Then I laughed, sharp and breathless, because of course I did. It was the totally wrong situation to do it in and I was freaking delirious!

“Oh, wow. That’s poetic, Ezra. Really. Shakespeare could never. You ache to shut me up? You get hard when I say your name? Should I start charging rent for all the times I’ve lived in your head?” I rolled my eyes. “What would it be? The one and only time someone played with your favorite toy?”

His hand fisted in the couch cushion beside my head, knuckles white. He was close enough I could taste the frustration pouring off him, feel the heat of his body pressing mine into the cushions.

“You want me to admit it?” His voice was low, rough, like it scraped up from somewhere he didn’t want me to see. His forehead brushed mine, deliberately, intimately. “Fine. I don’t want to share you. Not with Aaron. Not with anyone. Not even with your damn phone.”

My breath hitched, traitor lungs starving for more.

His eyes searched mine, reading me like the open book I never wanted to be, catching every flicker I couldn’t hide. “You wanted to know the reason? It’s not loneliness. It’s not sex. It’s you. It’s always been you. And I’m done pretending it isn’t.”

The room spun. My pulse jackhammered. My mouth opened, ready to fire off some quip, some wall, some anything⁠—

But his lips crashed into mine again, silencing me in the only way Ezra knew how.

“Get off me.” I shoved his chest, but it was like shoving a wall and my protest was weak, it was like what I knew I should say with my mouth when my body was already trying to figure out ways to make my clothes evaporate.

He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, the other braced by my hip. His mouth hovered over mine, his breath uneven.

“I’m not letting you go.” His voice was a growl, low and intimate, the kind that vibrated all the way down my spine.

“And you don’t want me to,” he went on, steady now, like he was peeling back every excuse I had left. “Because deep down—in the darkest, dirtiest parts of your mind—you want this. You’d take a little angry sex, a little fighting, biting—” He sank his teeth into my shoulder hard enough to make me gasp. “You wouldn’t even flinch if I drew blood. But you’d never say it out loud. Because what would people think?”


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