Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Let me hold you,” he whispers, peppering tiny kisses over my mouth. “Please.”
Our eyes meet, and we share a smile before he pulls back the duvet, and I scurry underneath it. He follows, stretching out on his back and holding his arms out to me.
Nothing in the world could stop me from settling against his firm chest, resting against him, and closing my eyes as his arms encase me. Arms as strong as I knew they would be. For the first time in days, it’s easy for me to relax. As much as I want to stay awake and savor every minute of this, the sleep I’ve missed out on since the breakup catches up to me all at once and pulls me under.
The last thing I hear is Callum whispering my name. “Bianca. My sweet Bianca.”
I’m smiling when I fall asleep.
I’m alone when I wake up.
Not abandoned, though. When I sit up, looking around with a sinking heart, I find a tray of food waiting on the nightstand. How did he bring it in without me waking up? I probably needed more sleep than I thought.
There’s something else besides coffee, muffins, and fruit for me to discover.
I can’t help but grin at the sight of a neatly folded gray T-shirt on Callum’s pillow. The memory of what happened to the old shirt leaves me hanging over the edge of the bed, looking for it on the floor.
It’s gone.
He wants all evidence of Lucas gone without a trace.
I bite my lip, stifling a smile as if it still feels wrong to be this happy. And that’s the only word that comes close as I pull the soft shirt over my head. It smells like him—a little spicy, woodsy, with a hint of musk. I hold the fabric to my nose and breathe deeply.
I can’t recall the last time I was this happy. I was so busy convincing myself my life was fine as it was that I lost sight of the basics. There’s so much lost time to make up for.
I’m thinking Callum’s the key to that.
Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter when we’re together.
I gobble down the food on the tray and sneak back to Tatum’s side of the house. Nobody sees me, thank god. Then I send him a text.
Me: Thank you for the shirt.
“And I got the message,” I add in a whisper, smiling and biting my lip. He doesn’t want anybody in my life but him.
CALLUM
It’s official: I am the world’s biggest asshole. The ultimate fuck-up. A hopeless case. Why did I do it? The question plagued me the instant I woke before dawn to the sweet weight of Bianca’s head against my chest. The soft, rhythmic breathing. The sweet fragrance of her shampoo, her hair tickling my nose.
For one millisecond between sleep and awareness, I was as close to happiness as I’ve been in as long as I can remember. Utterly at peace, lacking for nothing. I was holding the world in my arms. What else did I need?
You stupid son of a bitch.
I’m growling at myself by the time I step onto the treadmill in the gym on the lowest level of the house. I need a good, hard run to gain clarity in a murky situation.
I’ve only made it murkier. This is all on me.
I program a five-minute warm-up, starting slowly to wake my muscles before picking up the speed. Maybe I can outrun my guilt.
What was “complicated” yesterday morning is now a complete and utter clusterfuck, thanks to my lack of impulse control. Not to mention my talent for talking myself into taking what I want, even if I know it’s a mistake.
Though I can’t bring myself to think of her as a mistake. Not when she soothes my troubled soul and silences the voices in my head. I slept better last night than I have in ages.
That still doesn’t make it right.
Romero strolls in from the locker room, meeting my gaze in the reflection of the mirror across from me. I didn’t even know he was down here. Most likely, he plans on getting in a workout before the long day ahead of us. He inserts his AirPods into his ears before sitting down at the Nautilus station, and I’m grateful he’s not somebody who needs to talk during his workout.
In my mood, he wouldn’t want to hear anything I have to say.
There’s nothing worse than the morning after when the blood filling your dick has returned to your brain, where it belongs. Everything looks different in the cold light of day.
Not that I don’t want her just as much as ever. No, I want her more. I’m greedy for her now, craving her presence even as I punish my body in penance. It isn’t enough to make her come once or twice. I need her screams, her pleas. I need the sound of her moaning my name in helpless abandon.