Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Shoving past her, I walk into the bathroom and grab the towel that’s in plain sight. I stomp back into the bedroom and shove the towel into her hands.
“Where did you find this?”
I roll my eyes and suppress the grin threatening to appear on my lips. “Hanging on the towel rack. Now go get dressed. The next time I see you, you better have clothes on, and I mean it, Claire.” I try to keep my voice stern and serious.
As funny as this might be, she’s straddling the line of my insanity. One wrong move, and we’re both balancing on the edge of a knife’s blade.
“You act like you don’t want me, but that bulge in your shorts says otherwise.” Her emerald eyes gleam with satisfaction.
My cock stiffens to an almost painful degree. Guess I’ll have to drop her down a peg or two. “Yeah, my cock is rock hard, but it would be hard with any red-blooded woman standing in front of me with her tits and pussy showing.”
In an instant, her demeanor changes. Her shoulders slump forward, and her eyes divert to the floor. She wraps the towel around her middle, covering herself up.
Almost instantly, the guilt hits. “Look, Claire, you have to…”
She waves me off and tightens her hold on the towel. “No. I get it. I’m good enough to suck your dick, just not anything else.”
I’m at a loss for words. What is my response to that? I told you not to push me? I warned you? I have to remind myself that Claire doesn’t know what she truly wants. She is still so young and naive to the world. She thinks that I’m the man for her because I’m the only one to have ever paid her an ounce of attention, but she doesn’t need a man like me.
“Classes start tomorrow,” I tell her to change the direction of our conversation.
“Good. I can’t wait to get out of this apartment and away from you!” she sneers angrily and disappears back into the bedroom.
I’m conflicted on how to move forward. Apologizing won’t help. Pushing her away is the only thing I can do. I’ll never forgive myself if I saved her all these times from the bad men in my life, only to ruin her myself.
Now, I just need to make her realize that I’m not the one for her. I need to push her away, make her lose interest in me. The question is, how?
I stand at the window, looking through the glass at the people walking the streets below when an idea crosses my mind. The only way she is going to let me go is if I twist her misguided love into hate. I need her to hate me. If she hates me, then so be it. At least I won’t destroy her life.
Walking to the kitchen, I open my junk drawer and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. I stare at the blank page for a few seconds before I bring the ball of the pen to the paper and start writing…
Claire,
I’m sorry, but I can’t let this go on any longer. You know I care about you, and I want to keep you safe at all costs. You are like a sister to me, and that’s the way it needs to stay.
I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’ve been seeing someone. That’s why there can never be anything between us. Because I’m in love with someone else.
I’m gripping the pen so hard it cracks in my hold. My chest aches, and there is a distinct pit forming deep inside my gut.
I imagine her reading this, reading this lie. It would break her heart.
Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t let her hate me. It would not just break her. It would break me as well. I’m about to rip the letter up when I hear Claire leaving her room.
The sound of the bedroom door opening has me shoving the paper back into the drawer before slamming it shut.
Claire appears a moment later, now fully dressed. Her hair is still wet, and her mouth is still set into an angry frown.
“You need something?” The words come out much rougher than intended, and I almost apologize.
“Well, I was hungry, but I just lost my appetite,” she sneers at me before spinning around and stomping back to her room. The door slams hard enough to rattle the glass sitting on the kitchen counter, leaving the tension in the apartment thick.
One thing is clear now. I don’t want her to hate me. I also don’t want her to view this place as a prison, even if that’s what it is. I want her to be happy, smiling, and enjoying life. Maybe it’s time for a truce?
I decide to order some Chinese from a place around the corner. The doorbell rings in under twenty minutes. With a hot bag of food in hand, I close the door and turn around.