Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
When she hesitates, panic flashing across her face, I murmur, “You’re fine. We’re not in any danger of having an accident.”
“I know.” A fine tremble weaves its way through her voice.
“Okay. Good.”
She downshifts before slowly rolling to a stop and then moving the gear into neutral. Once the vehicle comes to a standstill, she releases a steady puff of air.
“I did it.” There’s so much pride and wonder in those three little words.
“You were amazing. It won’t be long before you’re on the road.”
Her muscles loosen as she collapses on top of the steering wheel, her forehead resting against the middle.
“Fallyn?” Icy cold tendrils of panic rush through my veins.
When her shoulders begin to shake, I realize she’s crying.
Oh god.
I really hate female tears. Under normal circumstances, I’d slip away unnoticed, breathing a quick sigh of relief as I make my getaway. There’s no way I can do that with Fallyn. Her tears have always had the power to make my heart feel like it’s being squeezed in a vise. All I want to do is fix whatever is causing her pain and heartache. That’s always been my gut response where she’s concerned.
Decades later, nothing has changed.
I go with instinct and slip my arms around her ribcage, hauling her out of the driver’s seat and onto my lap before rearranging her so that her breasts are flattened against my chest. It’s only when she’s situated on my thighs that I come to my senses and realize exactly what I’ve done and the intimate way I’m holding her. There’s no damn way she won’t put up a fight. The last thing she wants is for me to offer comfort.
For all intents and purposes, I’m still the enemy.
And what I stole from her was unforgivable.
It’s a shock when her warm weight melts into me before she buries her face in the crook of my neck until her tears drip onto my exposed skin. My arms tighten around her, pressing her as close as possible until there’s not a whisper of air between us. I squeeze my eyes closed and inhale a giant breath into my lungs.
The rosemary and mint scent of her hair is a straight shot to my dick.
“Please don’t cry,” I whisper. “I never could stand the sight of your tears.”
Her shoulders shake harder as she releases all of the pent-up emotion lying dormant within her soul. It kills me that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. If there were a way to leech it from her body and take it onto myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
But that’s not possible.
No matter how much I might wish otherwise.
Our history is long and tightly entwined.
Most of it is good.
Wonderful, even.
The worst parts are heartbreaking.
Devastating.
And nothing will ever change that.
There’s no way to obliterate our past.
I keep her wrapped up tight in my arms. It’s not until she shifts and freezes that I realize my dick is rock hard. For a handful of seconds, neither of us dare to move a muscle.
Barely am I breathing.
If I’m lucky, she’ll pretend she doesn’t feel the insistent press against the V between her legs. That thought is all it takes for me to remember what her pussy tasted like when I licked her sweetness from my fingers.
If it’s possible, I grow even harder.
It wouldn’t take much for me to explode in my jeans.
After what happened in the hotel suite, I wasn’t even able to make it out of the building without slipping into the bathroom and rubbing one out. Then I got home and did it again.
Fuck.
Those thoughts are in no way helping matters. In fact, they’re only making the situation worse.
When she shifts, sliding against my groin, I groan. “Fallyn…”
My voice comes out sounding gravelly, as if it’s been roughed up with sandpaper.
Her hands slip between us before she presses the palms against my chest and pushes away just enough for her wide-eyed gaze to lock on mine. Her eyes are shiny from the tears and filled with confusion. Her dark lashes are spiked with wetness, making them look longer and thicker. The fucked-up part is that she’s never looked more beautiful.
Even when she was laid out before me, naked, legs spread invitingly.
The mask had obscured her eyes, making it impossible to know what she was thinking.
“You should…I need to move,” she murmurs.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, but I’m terrified of pushing for too much.
I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air before trying to wrangle all of these out-of-control feelings back into submission.
It doesn’t work.
My hands lock around her waist as I maneuver her from my lap. Then I pop open the passenger side door and set her on the seat as I jerk to my feet. Her eyes stay pinned to mine before dropping to my groin and widening.