Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Too many to list out,” I say with a light laugh, but when I see how solemnly she’s studying me, I know she’s not asking about petty or incidental things. Coughing, I clear my throat, one thing coming to mind.
Something I’ve never told another living soul.
But right now, having this honest conversation with Barrett, I want to bare it to her.
“When I shot the man who tried to kill your uncle,” I say, letting my words hang in the air.
She nods in understanding as to who I’m talking about.
“A part of me regrets it,” I admit.
Face blanching, her eyebrows shoot sky high before she shakes her head in denial. “No. You were a hero. You saved Uncle Jon’s life.”
“Yeah… get that part,” I murmur, staring out across the water. When I give her my attention again, I say, “But as time has passed and I’ve reflected on it, I think I regret taking the kill shot. Perhaps I could have shot him somewhere else. Disabled him, maybe.”
“No,” Barrett firmly says. “No. You can’t second guess, and that’s all it is… second guessing. That’s not regret.”
“It is,” I state, refusing to back down. “I regret not giving that guy a chance to live.”
She takes in my words and the seriousness of my tone before she nods in acquiescence. Tilting her head, Barrett asks, “Is it awful? Feeling that?”
I shake my head with a smile. “Not too awful. I had just a fraction of a second to react. There were no good choices. I saved a life. So, I can regret what I did in hindsight, but it’s not torturing me or anything. I don’t let it weigh me down.”
“That’s good,” she says with a relieved smile. “Because you’re such a good man. You don’t deserve to have that bearing down on you. I know I’m eternally grateful for what you did, and I don’t have a moment’s sympathy for that man. He deserved what was done to him.”
“Probably,” I agree. “But you asked about regret, and there you have it. And for the record, Dr. Alexander, I’ve never shared that with anyone before. In fact, Kynan specifically asked me about it when he interviewed me and I out and out lied to his face about it. So, it’s our little secret, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She grins. “Our secret. I’ll take it to the grave.”
CHAPTER 15
Barrett
I love it when I’m in the middle of a good dream and the details are bright, the sensations are hyped, and I’m so deep under there’s no danger of awakening. Perhaps I’ve thought so much about how I woke up day before yesterday, with my body against Cruce’s and my hand on his stomach, that it led me to dream about the same thing.
Maybe it was the time we’ve been spending together. We floated in salty, clear blue water, talking about life and happenstance. When he would take a moment to scan the horizon, I was sneaking glances at his perfect chest and arms. Cruce didn’t try to be surreptitious. He just stared, not being gross but also not hiding his appreciation.
It could even have been last night, enjoying a quiet dinner on the outdoor balcony as we watched the sun set into the water. Cruce asked me about my research and the work I had left to do on my formula. He let me talk for over half an hour about it. I could tell he didn’t understand a damn thing I said, yet he was engaged and interested. While he couldn’t help me on the scientific side, he had plenty of direct encouragement to give me.
Whatever the reason, I’m now currently dreaming of being pressed against Cruce’s body again in one of the best dreams ever, and I’m not going to let it go. He smells so good, and his skin is warm. My hand flattens, touching as much of his belly as I can, then I rub my cheek on his shoulder.
I go still when Cruce shifts, and my heart starts beating so fast it feels like my chest might explode. But then I remember… dream.
I can act with impunity.
My lips curve upward in a sly smile that only I know is on my face. I slide my hand south, letting my fingers finally touch those crisp dark hairs known as a happy trail. They certainly make me happy as I follow them to the edge of the waistband of his cutoff sweats.
I frown, sad my dream isn’t more tailor made for me. Because he should have been completely naked in my dream, so I wouldn’t have to mess with clothing.
But whatever…
I dip my fingers under the waistband, immediately met with warm, silky skin stretched over what feels like granite.
I encircle his impressively sized shaft—dreams totally rock—and grip him without thought because it’s my dream and for me alone. He’s so thick my fingers can’t even wrap completely around him, and I give a hard squeeze.