Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 92422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
It’s only when her pussy spasms, squeezing the life out of me, that I come with a vengeance and roar out my orgasm.
It’s altogether possible that the tip of my cock just blew off.
A few minutes later, we both float down to earth.
My heart pounds an unsteady staccato against my ribcage, and it takes time for my breathing to even out until I no longer feel like I just ran a marathon.
Or skated suicides during a two-hour practice.
Even though my brain is hazy, discontentment presses in at the edges. I haven’t pulled out, and I can’t help but dwell on the very real possibility that this will be the last time I’m buried inside her sweet heat.
It’s only when I soften that I roll onto my back and take her with me.
A heavy silence, chockful of unspoken words, hangs heavy in the air. It’s as if we’re both aware of the impending storm that looms on the horizon. There’s no way to outrun or hide from it.
All we can do is stand tall and face it down when it finally arrives.
But that doesn’t mean we can’t put it off until the early morning light streaks across the horizon.
I bury my face in her hair and draw a deep breath of her floral scent into my lungs. If only there were a way to hold it captive for the rest of my life.
Hold her captive.
“I hope you realize that I’m nowhere near done with you,” I whisper.
She shifts against me until her gaze can fasten onto mine. “Maybe I’m the one who isn’t done with you.”
My heart clenches, wishing that were the case.
We make love a few more times before finally drifting off to sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Even though I try to brace myself for what tomorrow will bring and close myself off from the inevitable pain, I realize there’s no way to do that.
No matter what happens, this will hurt.
31
BRITT
It’s the bright sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains of my bedroom that has me surfacing from a deep sleep. I turn my head and take in the man snoring softly beside me.
I lost track of how many times we had sex last night. Enough for me to promptly pass out afterward.
My gaze rakes over him with more care.
His blond hair is tousled, and his eyelids are feathered closed. His lashes are ridiculously thick as they rest against his skin. His nose is long with a little crook as if it had been broken at some point. It’s what stops him from being over-the-top beautiful. His cheekbones are sharp and his face angular.
The man is definitely gorgeous and a real pleasure to look at.
And the women of Western do enjoy staring at him.
All I can say is that Colby McNichols hasn’t turned out to be the man I assumed he was. There’s a surprising amount of depth and layers to him. Even more shocking than that, I’ve enjoyed our time together.
I release a long slow breath, knowing that I can’t delay the inevitable any longer. I need to come clean about my identity. After working up the courage to do it last night, he shut me down.
Throughout our relationship, he’s opened up about his past and been honest with me, divulging details he wouldn’t normally share.
And I’ve been resistant to do the same.
I worry my bottom lip.
I have no idea how he’ll react to what I have to say.
Instead of cuddling against him the way every impulse clamors for, I slide from the bed and tiptoe around the room, picking up my clothing as I go. Once dressed, I slip into the hallway.
The plan is to run to the coffee shop around the corner and pick up breakfast.
Then we can sit down and finally hash this out.
Every night that Colby has been at my place, he’s cooked dinner. It might not be fancy or elaborate, but it’s nice to come home to a prepared meal. Even when it’s just grilled cheese and tomato soup. There’s nothing better than sitting down and talking about our days. I can always count on him to share funny stories about his friends and teammates that make me laugh.
It only makes me realize how much I’ll miss the routine we’ve fallen into if this fledgling marriage doesn’t work out.
Most of all, I’ll miss Colby.
Instead of grabbing my jacket, I pull on his black Western Wildcats hockey sweatshirt. I can’t help but lift the soft material to my nose and inhale a giant breath. My eyelids feather closed, and my tummy flutters as his woodsy scent cocoons me in comfort and familiarity.
I love the way he smells.
I snag my purse and keys on the way out before leaving the apartment. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I push through the heavy metal door and into the stairwell. The only thing on my mind is picking up breakfast and returning as quickly as possible. It feels imperative that I get everything off my chest and into the open. Only then can we discuss what our future will look like and the possibility of moving forward. The realization that we could have one that’s intertwined is as exciting as it is terrifying.