Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Arthur gritted his jaw, anger deep in his green eyes. “I found it in the wreckage of the house. I had just enough time to put it somewhere safe before the police arrested me the following morning.”
Questions lined up in chaotic fashion. I wanted to hear his story—to figure out why they arrested him and the trial he must’ve been subjected to.
But the flashback had drained me. I had no more tenacious drive other than to show this man what he meant to me.
I moved forward into his embrace. His arms wrapped immediately around me, squeezing hard.
A minute passed and we just hugged, drawing and giving much-needed serenity.
Finally, Art pulled back. “Let’s go to bed.”
I nodded.
“Just let me lock up.” Moving away, he gathered the photographs and placed them back in the safe. Locking it, he turned to face me, but my eyes landed on a glossy image hidden partly by the couch.
Without a word, I ducked down and retrieved it.
My heart swooped with gossamer wings then hurtled me into hell.
Me and him.
Young, slightly sunburned, dressed in shorts and T-shirts, surrounded by a swarm of family. My mom and dad. His mom, dad, and older brother. We were the perfect postcard of togetherness.
My eyes fell on his father.
Hatred coiled in my gut, hissing and twisting, wanting to strike him down for what he did.
Tears bruised my eyes to see my parents again. A flash of a memory appeared. My mother had been called Petal—Sandra “Petal” Price. She’d been too pure and precious to die.
A single tear rolled down my cheek as I drank in the love on their doting faces, the happiness we’d had as a family. Knowing I would never see them again ripped out my heart and left it bleeding on the floor.
It hurt.
So, so much.
“Shit.” Arthur plucked the image from my fingertips, taking away my home, leaving me alone once again.
In a flash, he picked me up from the tiles and carried me toward the door. “I can’t stand to see you in pain.”
I didn’t protest as he carted me from the room.
Over his shoulder, I noticed another photograph peeking up from the floor.
A picture of me laughing in Scott “Rubix” Killian’s arms. I’d loved him. I’d trusted him.
He’d been an uncle to me but destroyed my family all for greed.
Tiredness stole everything from me; I burrowed my face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. No words were spoken as he carried me back to bed.
Placing me gently on the mattress, I cupped his cheek. “I’ve always wondered why your mom called you Arthur. Do you know?”
His face turned soft. “Yes, I know.” Throwing back the covers, he climbed in beside me, pulling me into his powerful body. “She named me after Arthur Cayley. A famous mathematician who wrote a number of papers on rules we use abundantly today.”
I smiled in the dark, holding his arm around my breasts. “So she’s the reason why you’re fascinated with numbers.”
He laughed quietly. “You could say that. I suppose she jinxed me in a way.”
“Or gave you a better life path than the one your father envisioned.”
Somehow I remembered Arthur’s childhood wasn’t as happy as mine. His family home had always been fraught with danger and nervousness. I’d never come out and asked, but I had a feeling his father did more than just raise his fists to his son. I had a feeling his older brother hurt him, too.
His voice turned to a whisper. “Perhaps.”
“How did she die?” I murmured, hating to think his mother had been murdered like mine. There had been too much death. Too much unnecessary waste.
Arthur flinched behind me, taking his time to reply. “Breast cancer.”
I hugged his arm closer. “I’m so sorry, Art.”
Holding me tight, he growled, “No more talking, go to sleep.”
I wanted to offer condolences. I wanted to turn in his arms and kiss him senseless and force him to forget the pain of being locked in prison while his mother died of cancer.
Instead, I allowed him to keep me pinned and welcomed sleep to steal me.
I made a pact as silence fell thick and soothing around us that the moment we woke tomorrow, I would show Arthur how much I adored him. How precious his undying devotion was to my memory and heart.
I would wrap my lips around his cock and adore him until I drank everything he gave me.
I would show him how much I worshiped, not just his soul and mind, but his body, too.
Sleep stole its fuzzy tentacles through my mind. The only sounds were the gentle thud of our heartbeats, once again syncing into rhythm.
I let the gentle intimacy lull me closer to dreamland, but in the last moment before succumbing, I whispered, “Don’t fear the truth around me, Art. Please don’t be afraid.”
I never expected a reply.