Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
There was something about him that said he was more straightforward than that. And the day he’d shown me the evidence he had against dad, it was a shock to realize that this man who’d taken me, who’d done such a monstrous thing, was more honest with me than the man I’d spent my whole life looking up to.
I don’t condone his actions, had even found it hard to make peace with the way he’d used me in the beginning. But that didn’t stop me from craving his touch and longing for all those things only he could make me feel.
21
Ava
* * *
Whether it was being tied to his bed and used for his own pleasure, or coming on to the end when he’d touch me as though I were the most precious thing in his world. I missed him. He’d probably freak if he knew I’d seen more than what he was willing to share with the world.
But had he remained that monster in my eyes, I wouldn’t be having this problem now. Wouldn’t have spent every day since we’ve been apart longing for him so much that it had become a physical ache that nothing and no one could cure.
I spend the better part of each day reliving our time together, keeping his memory fresh in my mind lest I forget. The thought of forgetting fills me with dread and I sometimes go into a panic if I forget one little detail. I doubt even he knew how much I’d come to learn, how much I’d seen in him.
Like the fact that when he wasn’t growling and threatening, I could see behind the mask and what I saw made my heart squeeze. Of course I had to deal with the guilt I felt. It was a betrayal of my dad. I hated myself at first for still wanting him. Until I realized I was madder at him for sending me away.
I stayed mad for days. Mad, confused and feeling like I was going out of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and our time together. And each time I remembered how we were in the beginning, the way he was so careful with me, the way he touched me, loved me, it was hard not to want to go back.
I remember how it was between us those last few days after I’d learned the truth. How I’d fought myself until I no longer pined for his touch. But yet when he touched me I still found it hard not to respond, he’d trained my body well to always need his. But even though my body responded I was confident that I was free of any idyllic nonsense where he and I were concerned.
At least that’s what I’d told myself what I’d made myself believe. I’d convinced myself that I could enjoy the physical part of our relationship without giving any part of myself away. That I could take from him just as he was taking from me without losing any more of myself to the man I wanted to hate.
And then that fateful day I’d asked him to stay and talk to me. He’d been telling me for days that he was taking me back to dad, but each day I woke up in his bed. I’d been trying to get to his soft side if he had one, but something had changed while he was telling me about himself.
Not only did he have a soft side, which he hid very well, but he was also one of the most honest men I’ve ever met. I started seeing his strength not as something to fear, but as a comfort. I fought these new feelings even as I sat there falling under his spell again.
And though I told myself that I’d be a fool to fall for him again, once he touched me with such reverence, with such care, I was a goner. There’s no way he could touch me with such feeling if he didn’t truly care.
Up until the morning he took me back I was silently hoping that he’d change his mind. I couldn’t come right out and ask him to keep me that would’ve been too much. But I’d wished for it nonetheless.
I’d begun to hope that he couldn’t let me go any more than I wanted to lose him. The whole situation was a mess and I foolishly hoped that things could go back to the way they were before I overheard that conversation. Before reality set in and everything changed.
I knew he was feeling it too. If not exactly what I was, then something. I was sure of it. And when he drove me to my family mansion himself, the way he’d refused to look at me even though he’d held my hand all the way there as though he’d never let go, it had taken everything in me not to utter out loud the words that had been screaming inside my head.