I feel alive in his arms.

My head lolls back as he spreads my thighs wider and starts to undo his pants, but he’s going too slow, so I tug at the belt and buttons, shove them down with my feet, and then lay back on the expensive countertop waiting for more.

The incredible pizza is long forgotten.

His first thrust hits me so deep I cry out, and then he’s pumping into me like a madman, and I’m screaming his name because I don’t want him to stop.

His hips roll, and mine follow, matching him hit for hit as we both start to sweat across the granite.

I remember staring at it and thinking about how expensive it was, and now I want him and me all over it.

I want him in the stupid pool house.

The game room.

Every single bathroom.

I want him everywhere.

And with the way he’s gripping my legs and kissing my mouth—I know he feels this inexplicable thing too.

He pulls out of me just when I’m ready to release.

“What the hell?” I whimper.

“C’mon.” He pulls me to a sitting position, then picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. “You deserve a bed.”

“My ass is literally hanging out.”

He slaps it. “Yes, princess, it is.”

“Stop that.”

He just slaps it again until I start hitting his with my fists. It’s hard as steel, and so is he as his cock strains toward my stomach and thighs.

We finally make it to his room, and he throws me across his bed and then hovers over me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful that I live in a perfect world until now.”

“No more bird watching,” I whisper, cupping his face.

“No.” His mouth meets mine, and then he’s inside me again, filling me, moving with me, clenching my hands in his, and whispering my name across my lips. “Now, I’ll just watch you.”

“I’m not free like the birds.”

“You make me free,” he says, tongue tangling with mine before he sends me soaring, just like his birds.

And I realize he’s totally right.

We’re two days in.

Things always change.

People die.

People live.

But right now—I choose to be free with my asshole bully turned lover and friend.

Or so I thought…

Chapter Seven

Mary-Belle

Good story, right?

I mean, that’s what you’re obviously thinking.

We drove off into the sunset, after you know, having amazing sex, living like perfect rich people, living our lives, and having it easy.

But you have no idea. You think that’s where our story starts?

That’s where our love ended.

Where the pain began.

This is our story.

This is The Perfects.

Strap in because we’re just getting started…

Chapter Eight

Ambrose

One week earlier…

I can’t stop.

I want her.

I stare at her door and know I shouldn’t go in. Both parents are home, my dad would flip, I’d be grounded for centuries, probably lose the car, but it’s like a siren’s call, one I can’t ignore and, let’s be honest—won’t.