I'll Make You Mine Read online

  Table of Contents

  I'll Make You Mine

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Other Books by Gia Riley

  Acknowledgements

  I’ll Make You Mine

  Copyright © 2017 by Gia Riley

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is in violation of the International copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design:

  Melissa Gill, MG Book Covers & Design

  Photography:

  Lindee Robinson Photography

  Editing:

  Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services

  Proofreading:

  Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Interior Design & Formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  To first loves and lobsters. You’re both a little scary.

  Enjoy the playlist for I’ll Make You Mine

  Contents

  I'll Make You Mine

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Other Books by Gia Riley

  Acknowledgements

  Fourteen Days Ago . . .

  Dylan

  “Dude, make up your damn mind. If you don’t want her, I’m next in line,” Josh says with an evil grin.

  “She’s not a toy,” I tell my best friend.

  “She could be. I’m pretty sure that’s how she rolls.”

  I’ve known Keely most of my life. We’ve never been close, not as close as I am with her sister, but she’s sending all the right signals. Signals I’d love to get from Zoe, but haven’t. Maybe I never will.

  “I’m not her type,” I say aloud, even though I’m talking to myself. I can’t seem to convince my intoxicated brain this is a bad idea.

  Tonight will either be the smartest move I’ve ever made or the dumbest mistake I’ll never live down.

  “I’m doing it, Josh.”

  He takes another draw of his beer and shakes his head. “All this time I had you paired with the wrong sister.”

  “What?”

  “You’re talking about hooking up with Keely and you’re staring at Zoe. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I have to try, Josh. If anything will get her attention, it’s this.”

  “You’re playing with fire.”

  “Nobody’s getting burned. I’m not like that.”

  “Whatever you say, just don’t come crying when it blows up in your face. Actually, you should. That way I’ll know Keely’s back on the market. I need a taste of that one.”

  I smack the back of his head and stand up. “Just keep your mouth shut. That’s all I ask.”

  An hour later, I’m sitting on Trevor’s porch with Keely in my lap. Zoe left twenty minutes ago. I watched her leave, making sure she was far enough away before I approached her sister.

  “What are you thinking? You’re hard to read,” Keely says as she plays with the leather bracelet around my wrist, a birthday gift from Zoe.

  Her nails are painted hot pink, a color too bold and bright for Zoe, but perfect for Keely. She demands attention with her body and her mouth. Even in the middle of a crowded room, she always gets it.

  But if I told her what I’m thinking, she’d slap me in the face. “I need another drink.”

  “Don’t be nervous, Dylan. I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

  I’m not doing this for sex—I’d never let it get that far with Keely. But I’m human and my dick stirs, pressing painfully against my zipper. I need to change the subject because she can’t know how I feel. Or why I’m doing this.

  “Do you want to get pizza before I take you home?”

  Nipping at my jaw, I feel her smirk. “We could skip the pizza and just go home. My bed is really comfortable.”

  “Shit, Keely. You’re making it hard to do the right thing.”

  She stands and pulls me by the hand until I’m across the porch and down the stairs. I let her lead me wherever she wants to go because it’s easier than making my own decisions. I’m doing a shit job of that tonight.

  The closer we get to her apartment, the more I want her. And it feels so wrong, yet intoxicatingly right.

  Wrong to want.

  Right to need.

  I haven’t had a girl wrapped around me in what seems like forever. I’ve been waiting for a certain one to notice. The girl to put two and two together.

  And if I look at Keely hard enough, I can see her twin.

  Zoe’s what I want.

  Keely’s who I have.

  What am I doing?

  Zoe

  “I’m not going inside,” I tell Keely for the third time. When I accepted a ride home from class, I didn’t expect to end up at an adult store.

  Laughing at me like she always does, she ge
ts out of the car, taking all the heat with her. I wait, hoping she’ll let me sit here in peace. But instead of making a beeline to the door, she rounds the hood of the car toward my side. Like aliens are about to abduct me, I slide the lock into place and crouch lower in my seat.

  “Open the door, Zoe,” she says with a hint of amusement, but mostly annoyance.

  If we were anyplace else, I’d let her have her way. I’ve always been the agreeable twin—the one who follows the rules, gets straight A’s, and picks up Keely’s slack so she doesn’t get in trouble. I’m reliable while she flies by the seat of her pants through every aspect of life.

  Why does she have all the fun?

  Because we’re opposites with different agendas.

  We can’t even live together without killing each other. While I’d rather avoid confrontation than deal with an argument, Keely’s the queen of drama. That’s the reason I ended up living in the dorms after moving out of our apartment sophomore year. Turns out, it’s easier to room with a bunch of freshmen than share space with my other half.

  “Zoe, come on!”

  I shake my head, ignoring her plea. It’s too cold for her to stand out there much longer, and I’m positive she’s about to give up on me. Until she points the key fob at the car, unlocking the door on her own. I hadn’t considered that.

  She pulls me by the arm until I almost tumble onto the gravel. “You can’t make me go inside.” I fight and kick like a child having a very public tantrum. “Just go get what you came for.”

  “You’re being a baby. This is what adults do.”

  “Not me. What do you need, anyway?”

  “I’ll figure it out as I browse, but it has to be perfect. Dylan’s making me work for it.”

  A tiny piece of me dies inside when she says his name. My best friend’s name. “It’s called dating, Keely. You know, learning about a person before you screw their brains out. The concept’s not that far-fetched.”

  “For you it’s not, but Dylan’s the only guy who hasn’t wanted to throw me in bed as fast as he can. It makes no sense. Why doesn’t he want me?”

  Since when is being treated with respect, bad?

  My sister has her mind made up, and when she’s dead set on something, she gets her way. But I admire Dylan for not falling into her trap. Still, I can’t figure out her logic. “And you think buying X-rated stuff will make Dylan want you more?”

  “It might,” she says with a casual shrug. “If not, at least I tried. More than you can say. You don’t even date. You get weird and blush about boys.”

  “I do not.” I do. “Keely, my dating history may have nothing to do with dildos and sleazy outfits, but look at the trashy dress hanging in the window. Is that the back or the front?”

  She glances over her shoulder and inspects the small scrap of fabric. “It’s the same on both sides.”

  “Exactly! Leather should never have the right of way.”

  She’s had it with me. “Zoe, the dress brings out a dominant, sexual side. It’s not for work or church.”

  “I’m sure you’d spontaneously combust if you wore that to church. Do you remember those little bracelets we clasped around our wrists as kids? Well, that’s not what Jesus would do.”

  “Ohmigod,” she whispers, tipping her head back and inhaling a deep breath of freezing winter air. “Can we agree to leave the Lord out of this?”

  If He gets a pass, so should I. Because Keely sexing with my best friend makes me nauseous. Certain things in life you can’t forget once you’ve seen them. And my Dylan is too good for this. He has standards and values. Ones that don’t require pleather or handcuffs.

  “Please, Zoe. It’s weird going inside by myself. Can’t I play the ‘I need my twin’ card just this once?”

  “You mean you don’t magically morph into your dominant bedroom personality once you walk through the doors?”

  “Now you’re just being a pain in the ass because you can.”

  “That makes no sense, but if I go inside, you can’t talk about what you’re buying. And you will promise not to glance in my direction while buying it. Okay?”

  “This bothers you that much?”

  “It’s Dylan, Keely. He’s been my best friend since ninth grade. Yes, we’re close, but we don’t talk about sex. And I don’t want a mental picture of him having sex with other people—especially my sister.”

  She considers it for a second, and then says, “You realize we’re identical. If he’s pictured me naked, he’s practically picturing you naked, too.”

  I never thought about it that way. With the way my pulse is racing, I’m not sure I want to either. “That’s disgusting. We are two very different people.”

  “For once, I agree with you, Zoe. Now, come on. You’re wasting precious study time.”

  “You have ten minutes. Don’t take forever.”

  An evil grin stretches from one dimple to the other and I’ve made a deal with the devil. “I give you my word,” she says. “I’ll be done in no time.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” I mumble under my breath as I follow Keely through the gates of hell.

  Two steps inside and my eyes are assaulted by the most revealing red lace get-up I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine wearing any of this stuff without laughing. Not unless I was a vampire or a porn star in my spare time.

  Keely’s eyes light up when she grabs a few tube tops off the rack. Like the dress in the window, the front’s the same as the back.

  “Do you like these?” she questions as she holds a bright pink top up in the air.

  “You’re talking. There’s no talking,” I remind her.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Zoe. I’m asking you a simple yes or no question.”

  I glance at the hangers in her hand, shrugging because I’m neither impressed nor turned off by tube tops. They’re just . . . meh. “I guess it depends what bottoms you wear with it.”

  Blinking, she’s at a loss for words. “You don’t wear bottoms with a dress, Zoe. This is a sexy nightie.”

  Since when are tube tops dresses? “But there’s no way that scrap of fabric will cover all that needs covering. Where’s the mystery?”

  “Now you sound like Grandma,” she says with a laugh. “She said you’re an old soul. The key word being old.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask her. “We’re the same age.”

  “Actually, you’re three minutes older than I am.” She hangs the dresses back on the rack and keeps the pink.

  “Can we go home now?”

  “Not yet, I still need panties.”

  I stare at the tiny dress in her hands. She makes no sense. “If you’re letting it all hang out in that thing, why are you trying to cover it back up with panties? Why not nix the dress, wear a bra and underwear you already own, and save yourself some money?”

  “They’re not those kind of panties, Zoe. These taste better.”

  I don’t understand what she means until we round the corner and come to a shelf of sex snacks. It’s a vending machine for the horny. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re into this stuff?”

  Keely chews on the tip of her acrylic nail as she tries to decide which flavor underwear Dylan might want to feast upon. My stomach churns at the thought of him gnawing waxy fruit leather off her body.

  She picks a pair, turning the package over to the backside.

  “Sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think they print the caloric contents on the package. I can’t imagine too many guys care.”

  “That’s not what I was doing,” she says with aggravation.

  It was, but without asking my opinion this time, she chooses strawberry, another fact I could have done without. “What’s next, a cheese curl bra?”

  “Zoe, for someone who didn’t want to talk, you’re doing a lot of it. If I wasn’t scared to be here alone, I’d tell you to wait in the car.”

  “What are you so afraid of? You wanted to come here, not me.”

  I answer
my own question, because the further back we walk, the more erotic the selection becomes. Whips, chains, handcuffs, and lube line the surrounding shelves.

  God, why is there so much lube?

  She scans the rows of bottles until she lands on strawberry shortcake. “I see you’re going with the whole berry theme.”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “Then I guess now would be a bad time to tell you Dylan’s allergic to strawberries.”

  With wide eyes she gasps, “Ohmigod, is he?”

  “No, but it was fun watching you freak out. You’d know his history if you spent more time talking to your boyfriend instead of trying to get him naked.”

  “If we spend any more time talking, he’ll practically be dating you.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. Keely never gets the guys because of her brains. She gets them because she’s easy. It’s not nice to talk about your own sister that way, but she’d agree with me. The girl craves physical interaction, and she’s not afraid to own it. She’s never scared like I am.

  Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be that open with my body. Because no matter how many times her heart gets stomped on, she keeps going back for more. That must mean physical is worth it—very worth it.

  But while dating is her top priority, I have school. School’s always come harder to Keely than it does for me. In fact, she struggled all the way to middle school until Mrs. Ramos discovered she was dyslexic during a Spanish review session. She was given the tools to manage her disability, but she didn’t cope well. She felt worse about herself because the tutoring meant she wasn’t perfect. Instead of focusing on turning her grades around, she relied on her looks to renew her self-esteem.

  Keely’s come a long way since then, but she’s even more boy-crazy than ever. I didn’t have a problem accepting it until she chose Dylan. He’s all I have, the only person I trust enough to consider an actual friend. I’ve always been a loner.

  “You’re positive he’s not allergic to strawberries?” she asks before we leave the lube on the shelf where it belongs.

  “Positive.” He eats strawberry frozen yogurt at least once a week. That’s our thing.

  If I was stronger, I’d tell her how much her relationship bothers me. But that would lead to questions about my own feelings, and that can’t happen.