Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I wish I could slow time down, because as I look over at the man tugging the little hat lower on my little boy, I realize I don’t want today to end.
I don’t think I want any of this to end.
I want to do it all over again tomorrow.
And again the day after that, and that is terrifying.
Because what happens if it’s all taken away?
What if I start to fall in love with him and then lose him?
What if the first part isn’t a what-if at all?
There’s tension in the air, and it’s not going away.
In fact, it’s getting stronger by the minute, like a storm on the horizon. I feel it coming, sense it in the air, but I don’t react.
Deaton’s been asleep now for a few hours, and the outside air grew too chilly, even with the help of the fire, so we’re back inside the house. The big-ass house that no one else is in.
It’s just me and Mason on the couch, a random movie neither of us has ever seen playing on the big screen. We’re sitting beside each other, bundled in the same blanket with our legs outstretched on the coffee table he tugged closer. His left arm is thrown across the back cushions, his fingers teasing at the edge of my shoulder, and I curse myself for not putting a hoodie on after the shower. Why I went with a tank top and sleep shorts, I don’t know.
Or maybe I do, because while I’m brimming with an anxiousness that makes me want to jump and run, I’m also melting at the feeling of his rough fingertips against my skin.
I don’t even know if he knows he’s doing it, but he is. He is and has been for twenty minutes now, and I swear, the goose bumps covering my flesh are going to become permanent if he doesn’t stop soon, but I don’t want him to stop. I want him to slide a little lower. Scoot a little closer.
I want him to kiss me again.
My muscles clench, and I curl my toes in my socks, shifting slightly beneath the blanket.
Mason moves, too, a little closer.
My eyes stay glued to the TV, and the anxiousness in the pit of my stomach doubles when I realize where the scene is leading.
Mason catches on at the same moment I do, his fingers freezing against my upper arm as the man on the screen gently pushes the girl against the wall. His hand disappears under her shirt, and I inhale, my eyes tracking the movement and snapping up to the woman’s face when her breathy noises flow from the speakers.
My core clenches, and I swallow, my heart rate spiking, beating so hard I’m scared he’ll hear it, that he’ll know what’s happening inside me.
And what’s happening inside me?
I’m coming alive, sprouting from nothing and desperate for the heat of the sun.
For the heat of him.
I lick my lips, and Mason’s fingers start their little dance all over again, trailing up and down, a little farther each way this time, and I gasp, staring at the couple as they move to the edge of the bed.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my legs are rubbing together, chasing the friction I suddenly desperately need.
Mason’s fingertips bite into my skin, and a low whine builds in my throat, slipping free. Instantly, I’m flying to my feet. I race from the living room into the kitchen and bury my head inside the fridge.
I inhale deeply, welcoming the cold. My eyes close, and a shaky exhale escapes.
Then his chest is pushing into me from behind, and I jump, my head snapping up, but I don’t look. I can’t.
This is…too much.
It’s nowhere near enough.
Shit. I swallow, panting now.
Mason’s hand comes around, pressing to my upper belly, and I allow my body to fall back into his.
Those perfect lips find my ear, and I feel them part, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
A small groan leaves him, but he swallows it away, whatever words he planned to speak dying on his lips. Instead, he takes the lobe of my ear between his teeth, and my center spasms, clenching. I might whimper. He drags them along the skin before releasing me, and I swear I’m floating.
I can feel him against me. He’s turned on. Hard and long and resting against the highest curve of my ass, his fingers biting into the softness of my stomach and sliding south.
I want to spin around and press into him.
I want him to reach between my legs and feel how much I want him, too.
I do. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
The thought has me tensing, and Mason goes taut behind me.
Slowly, he releases me, the heat of his body retreating and leaving a coldness in its wake.