Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“And my job affords me the lifestyle I desire,” I counter.
She’s quiet for a beat, and I struggle to maintain eye contact as she stares straight into me. This connection goes both ways, and the power of our intimacy unnerves me.
Something squeezes in the center of my chest, and I can’t draw breath until she offers me absolution. I need her approval more than I need oxygen, and I’m bizarrely cold in the absence of her sunshine smile.
13
ABBY
Being the center of Dane’s focus is like riding a rollercoaster—thrilling but also scary in its intensity.
On our first date, I made assumptions about his career and decided to get away before I became attached. The prospect of being subject to casual cruelty and emotional manipulation regarding my personal appearance had been too difficult to bear.
My response to his profession had been more about my own damage than about his choices.
But Dane isn’t my family. If anything, we both have trauma inflicted by the people closest to us.
An ocean separates us, and I prefer it that way. I recall his confession about his own fraught relationship with his family.
He’d started to open up to me, but I ran at the first hint of personal conflict.
“You value your independence, too,” I finally murmur. “You said you left your family behind in England and chose a different path for yourself. I understand. And I’m sorry I judged you.”
He draws in a sharp breath, as though he’s shocked at my apology.
I suppose I didn’t do a very good job of maintaining a polite veneer when I first found out about his area of expertise.
“What do you like to do in your free time?” I ask. He said that his career affords him the lifestyle he wants.
I work so that I can paint. I want to know what he values if he isn’t passionate about being a doctor.
He shoots me a sly smile. “Reading.”
He’s practically taunting me to ask why he picked up Addie LaRue again.
I don’t hear you begging yet.
Heat flushes my cheeks as his suggestive words echo through my thoughts. They’re so similar to GentAnon’s dirty messages.
GentAnon
Making demands? That’s not how this works. Beg.
I shake my head slightly, as though I can toss away the memory of the shameful exchange with my online pen pal. I’m with Dane now, and he’s far too refined and protective to ever indulge in fucked-up fantasies about hurting me while he gives me forbidden pleasure. I might picture his heartbreaking face and stunning eyes when I’m alone in my bed, but I have to be careful to differentiate that fantasy of him from the real man.
My skin is strangely tight and hot, so I take a bite of my ice cream to cool down.
We’re walking through Battery Park now, approaching the iconic gazebo. In a rare moment of luck, no one is taking up the space for their wedding photos. Dane walks toward it with confident strides, and I keep pace, eager to claim the shady spot before someone else comes along.
“What chapter are you on?” I ask in between decadent bites of my sugary treat. “I don’t want to spoil anything for you.”
We come to a stop inside the gazebo, and Dane sets his cup of ice cream on the railing so that he can open the book. He’s still holding it in his other hand, and he checks the page he’s bookmarked with a simple leather cord.
“Your gelato is melting,” I remark before he can tell me what scene he was reading when my shift ended.
He plucks my now-empty cup from my hand and replaces it with his. “This is for you.”
My lips quirk at the corners in a teasing smile. He’s only tried one tiny bite, so he’s clearly not enjoying it. “Too American for you?”
His low chuckle rumbles over my skin like a palpable caress. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth,” he admits. “I’d much rather see you enjoy it.”
“It would be a shame to waste it,” I say.
The texture of the creamy treat is velvety from softening in the summer heat, and the candy topping crunches in a delicious contrast.
I don’t realize that I’ve released a soft moan of pure delight until his jaw tightens with his own hunger. I tear my gaze away, embarrassed at the almost wanton noise I just made. It feels practically erotic when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.
I take another big bite of my gelato and look out at the park. Lacy Spanish moss drips from the elegantly curving branches of ancient live oaks. I focus on the gossamer texture of the moss and imprint this moment in my memory; I’ll paint the scene later, expressing all the intense feelings that I’m struggling to contain while he watches me eat the last of the ice cream like it’s a sensual act.