Total pages in book: 436
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)
His body moved, rolling and flexing, his eyes on mine, his lips parted and brows together, and he said my name. And that whisper on his lips was all it took to push me over that edge in a rush of heat and a burst of electricity down my spine, sending my back arching and lungs gasping and body pulsing. And at my release, he found his own, my name in a loop that followed every thrust of his hips as they slowed.
Our eyes were closed, his forehead against mine, his body pinning me down and our breaths mingling. And for some reason, I felt tears pricking the corners of my lids, my nose burning and a lump heavy in my throat.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to bury his face in my neck so I could hide from him. Because in that moment, for the first time, I’d found something real, something beyond me, even if I didn’t know what to make of it. I only knew how it felt, and I felt it all the way through me, through every atom. And I made a vow never to forget it.
If I hadn’t been addicted to him before, now there would be no hope. No amount of rehab would cure me.
We held each other like that for a long time before he rolled onto his side, pulling me with him and pulling out of me in one motion. He kissed me sweetly before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom, leaving me alone.
I lay there on my side with my back to the door and my heart full of shrapnel. It burned — my chest was shredded and smoldering and elated and aching. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t want to think about what it meant. I just wanted him back in bed with me. I wanted my name riding his breath and his arms around me and his lips against mine.
I wanted simple and easy. But we were past that.
He came back a minute later with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up like he always did but without the intention of more. Something in him was reserved, contained, like he was trying to separate from me.
The thought made me want to hang onto him more.
He stood and began to collect his clothes, and I felt my heart break.
“Stay,” I said simply, holding my breath in the hopes that he would say yes, the word hanging in the air as he turned to me.
I had never intentionally spent the night with anyone — I’d never wanted to. But the last thing in the whole world I wanted was for Bodie to walk out that door.
His face was soft and cautious as he asked, “Are you sure?”
And when I smiled and nodded, relief washed over him, and he slipped into bed next to me, holding me in his arms, whispering my name as we drifted off to sleep.
Bear Trap
I poured a ladle of pancake batter into the pan with a sizzle, smiling as it spread into a perfect circle.
It was a little late for me — I had to get home to work, the impending meeting looming over me like a dark cloud — but still I’d crawled out of Penny’s bed, wishing I could stay there all day.
There were a lot of things from the last eighteen hours I’d never forget, but Penny curled up in bed, swathed in fluffy white bedding in the morning sunshine, her tattoos and purple hair bright against the crispness of her sheets — that was almost at the top of the list. Dancing with her to The Cure and pushing her on the swing were up there too. But the very top? The number one?
Her eyes locked on mine when she’d given herself to me.
A jolt of happiness and pleasure and anxiety shot from my stomach to my throat at the thought. As much as I wanted to talk to her, that moment had been enough for me. She didn’t need to say anything.
I just knew. I knew how she felt and what she wanted. That line of communication was so much deeper than words could ever express.
At the same time, I had to let her lead. So I’d tried to tell myself to go like I knew she always needed me too. And when she’d asked me to stay, it was all I could do not to confess my feelings on the spot. Instead, I’d slipped into bed with her and told her in all the other ways I could that I needed her.
I slid the spatula under the flapjack and flipped it just as her door opened.
She shuffled out, yawning, her hair in a purple bun on top of her head. And she was wearing my dress shirt, the hem cutting her mid thigh and only the tips of her fingers visible past the sleeve cuffs.