Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
The girl who’d become an infatuation in his mind.
“You should probably leave,” he warned, his voice low.
She stepped forward. “I think it would be better if I stayed.”
SEVENTEEN
TESSA
A low roll of thunder pulled me from sleep. I’d been riding just below the surface of coherency, anyway, caught in one of those dreamlike states where you were partially aware of reality. Where the pictures in your mind were distorted by the fears and what-ifs and unknowns, twisting them into untold horrors.
I wouldn’t deny it.
I was nervous.
I was usually the rush right in and experience life kind of girl, but my spirit warned of what was riding on tomorrow, and it’d manifested itself into every terrible thing that could go wrong.
Mainly the idea of letting Milo down. That he wouldn’t find the fullness of this life. That what he was missing might not be restored.
Tossing off the covers, my bare feet hit the floor, and I padded out into the lapping darkness of the main room. Rain pattered against the roof, and lightning lit at the bank of windows that overlooked the back. For a flash, the mountains were alight and the blackened lake alive with the torrent that pummeled from the sky.
Thunder rolled, and my spirit shivered when I heard the distinct rumble of Milo’s old pickup truck approaching in the distance.
I glanced at the clock that glowed from the microwave in the kitchen.
3:14 a.m.
A thrill slipped beneath the surface of my skin.
Every time he came home, it was the same reaction.
Excitement.
Another week had passed, living in his home. Each day, I wanted him more. Each day the idea of him increased.
It was no secret I’d lived vicariously through my friends.
I’d always played it a joke. Like I was just being a nosy friend who wanted to goad them for the dirty details in their lives.
But the truth was, I’d been afraid I might never experience it for myself.
That I might not ever realize the desire to be touched.
To be pleased and adored and revered.
To understand what it was like to be taken by an all-consuming need.
To understand freedom in ecstasy.
To me, it was a mystery.
A fantasy I’d played through my mind a million times but had never known for myself.
Through them, I wanted to believe it was real.
The kind of connection they shared with their husbands.
I wondered if Milo touched me if I…
My stomach twisted, and I forced myself to stop that dangerous train of thought and turn back to the gorgeous scene of the summer storm bearing down on the mountain.
I had to reel in these feelings that were getting out of control.
Stop myself from believing this hoax could become something real.
I was setting my heart up to get broken.
I knew it.
That didn’t keep it from racing when I heard the tires of his truck crunch over the gravel as he came to a stop in front of the cabin. The spray of his headlights lit through the front windows.
A charge of energy sparked in my spirit.
That expectation was only amplified when his engine shut off, and I could all but hear his big boots pounding up the steps to the front porch, though it was dulled by the constant drone of the rain that pounded the roof.
A key slipped into the lock, and crap, my nerves zapped in anticipation.
Excitement and need and a thrill.
A little fear, too.
No question, what I was feeling was reckless.
Fraudulent and a clear contraindication to this bogus relationship that we’d fashioned.
Because it felt all too real when the door slowly creaked open and I felt his presence wash over me from behind.
Bold.
Severe.
Potent.
All that intensity was nothing but a lure because I couldn’t do anything but turn to look at him from over my shoulder.
He’d frozen in the doorway when he saw me there. His black hair was wet and dripping down his face to crawl into his beard.
His face so gorgeous it’d become a direct threat to the strength of my knees.
His black T-shirt was drenched at the shoulders, the fabric stretched tight over his wide, wide chest, though his jeans were barely wet, the top of him taking the brunt of the downpour battering the earth.
It was those honey-dipped eyes that did me in.
Tender.
But I swore I saw them flame with greed.
The man was an absolute hazard to my heart.
He might as well have had me on a lead because I was compelled by his movement as he stepped the rest of the way inside and clicked the door shut behind him, and my body turned in anticipation of his approach.
“Tessa, what are you doing up so late?”
I shrugged. “I think the storm must have woken me.” I glanced back through the windows. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
He edged in farther, his big boots thudding on the hardwood floors. His steps were measured, as if he recognized he needed to be careful, as if he understood he was treading into dangerous territory.