Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
How about for the rest of my fucking life, Evie?
I’ve lost control of how fast this relationship is moving. So much so that it feels like a relationship already. What I thought would be a mutual swap of pleasure turned out to be . . . more. The way he took me was more of a vow, a possession, than anything that belongs in a friends with benefits situation.
He put my son to sleep.
I already feel . . . connected to Luke in some way. It snuck right up on me.
“Evie.”
“Yes?”
I look over to find him studying me, scrutinizing my face . . . and when his mouth sets itself in a resigned line, I know he’s reading my mind word for word. Which is scary in itself.
Luke fastens his jeans, then rolls onto his side and kisses my shoulder, reaching down to raise the straps of my slip and gently cover my sex with the hem of the garment. He pulls me close and nuzzles his forehead with mine, but he stops short of kissing me, something I notice way too much, probably because I’m craving the texture of his lips, the sandpaper scratch of his evening stubble.
“Evie . . .” His breath is stilted. “I’ll never recover from what you just gave me.”
“Luke . . .”
“I reckon I have to wait for you to come to me now,” he says slowly, as if he’s only realizing this now. Adapting to me as we go. This man. “I’d rather die than scare you or push you for more than you’re ready to give. But I’ve made my position clear. If you want to be mine, if you want me to be yours, you know where to find me.”
Chapter Six
Luke
Maybe I’ve made a mistake.
It’s New Year’s Day, and a week has passed with no sign of Evie, the girl who ripped the soul clean out of my body on her living room floor. I meant what I said: I’ll never recover from the feel of her. That lack of recovery has come in the form of staring off into space when I’m meant to be tending the farm, like now.
There’s a fence that needs mending and a field waiting to be plowed, but I’m battling a terrible dread in my stomach that makes it hard to motivate myself. To move. To do anything but sit here on the porch, in the wooden chair built by my grandfather, and wonder how I could have done things differently.
For starters, I shouldn’t have left. At the time, with her clamming up on me and panicking, it seemed like the only option. To give her that space. But I’d just got finished telling her I wanted forever, so maybe I made myself seem unreliable by leaving. Wishy-washy. That’s the last thing I am when it comes to Evie. I know what I want.
I want her.
No, need.
I need to wake up every morning with my nose buried in her red hair.
I need those clever eyes to twinkle at me when I say something funny.
I need to break my back working in the field, knowing I’ve got her waiting at home.
Most of all, perhaps, I need her to trust me. I’m not some boy who cuts and runs. When I make a commitment, I keep it. And if Evie somehow decides to be with me, I’d be making one to her and Sonny. Hell, I’d be honored to give that child the space he needs to run around, to grow. To be a kid.
I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and folding my hands together. My head drops forward, a deep sigh welling in my chest. I’m not going to make it much longer before I go see Evie and try again. I pushed too hard, too fast, didn’t I? Foisted the farm on her. What my land and home could be for her and Sonny.
Same way I did with my family.
On top of being too intense, I made love to her like a brute, but hot damn, I’ve never felt anything so wet and hot in my thirty-three years. Never heard sweeter sounds than her sobs for me to drive deeper. Never felt like my heart and head and testosterone were aligned so perfectly, everything inside me shouting, This is your home.
She is your home.
Did I just tell myself what I wanted to hear?
I’m starting to think so . . .
My head comes up when I hear an unfamiliar sound. It sounds like wind, so I look across the field at my turbine on instinct, as if I might find it malfunctioning, but no. It turns, reliably lazy, in the wind. What the hell is that sound? Thinking it might be something inside making the whooshing sound, I stand up, preparing to go check. That’s when something coming up the road leading to the house catches my eye.