Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Why’d she leave?”
“I don’t know for sure. It wasn’t something we ever talked about.” I paused. “She wasn’t from here—she worked for an out-of-state developer that was putting up condos on the beach. Maybe she thought life on a ranch would be something different than it was. Something easier.”
“That could be true.”
“Or maybe she just up and changed her mind about having a family. Maybe she fell for someone else and ran off with him.” I shrugged. “Who knows?”
She rubbed my back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. And she’s just one of the things from his long-term memory butting into his short-term memory. It’s like he’s trying to fill the gaps in his mind, and the past is the only material he’s got.”
“Sometimes the past is so real though, don’t you think? I mean, just being back here is making me feel seventeen again. The memories are so vivid. The emotions so close to the surface.”
Fucking tell me about it.
She looked up at me, her hand still on my shoulder blade. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Since I was about to lose my mind and kiss her, I decided it was time to say goodnight. “Well, it’s late. I’m going to turn in.”
“Same,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Go on upstairs. I’ll turn off all the lights and make sure the house is locked up.” I kept my arms crossed over my chest, fists clenched beneath my biceps, praying she wouldn’t hug me.
“Okay. Goodnight, Beckett.”
“Night.” I held my breath until I heard her footsteps on the stairs, and then exhaled.
Jesus. The next two weeks were going to be torture. How was it possible that fifteen years had gone by, and I still struggled to breathe normally when she was in the room?
After making sure all the doors were locked, I turned off the kitchen lights and went into the great room. The lamp was still on, and I noticed that Maddie’s light blue sweater was still on the couch. I picked it up.
It was light and soft, and for a moment, I just stood there with it in my hands. Then I lifted it to my face, inhaling deeply. The smell of her perfume sent heat radiating up my spine.
A noise from the direction of the stairs made me turn, and my adrenaline spiked. Fuck—was she there? Had she seen me sniffing her clothing like a creep?
My heart hammered as my eyes frantically searched the dark, but I was alone. Breathing a sigh of relief, I draped the sweater over the arm of the couch, turned off the lamp, and made my way upstairs in the dark.
Maddie’s door was shut, and the light was off.
Thank God.
Inside my bedroom, I got ready for bed and slipped between the sheets. Normally I had no trouble falling asleep, but tonight, I lay on my back for a while, staring at the ceiling.
If I was another kind of guy—a guy like Moretti maybe, or even Griffin—I might have worked up the confidence to kiss her tonight. Flirt with her. Touch her. Maybe even invite her up to my room.
But that wasn’t me.
I’d never been a player or a ladies’ man. I never chased anyone. I liked sex as much as anybody, but I had no problem saying no to it, especially if I suspected the encounter would come with expectations. As Caroline had been fond of pointing out, I was a shit boyfriend.
You never put me first.
You’re distant and detached.
You give nothing emotionally.
But I couldn’t offer what I didn’t feel.
Would it be different with Maddie?
I had no idea, but God, I wanted her.
I thought about her soft skin and the scent of her sweater and the way those full lips might feel moving across my chest. I thought about my hands in her hair, my tongue in her mouth, easing my thick, hard cock inside her body. I imagined the way she’d move, the sound of her breath, the way those green eyes would pop if I said all the filthy things I was thinking. Or just did them.
Groaning inwardly, I got up and made sure my door was closed all the way. Then I got back in bed, tossed the covers aside, and slipped my hand into my boxer briefs. Fisted my cock. Stroked once. Twice. Three times.
Pictured her on the couch. Her shoulders. Her hands wrapped around the beer bottle. Her bare legs. If we’d been alone in the house tonight, I’d have taken off those little shorts. Buried my face between her thighs. Fucked her with my tongue.
Then I’d have picked her up and carried her to the stairs. Maybe we wouldn’t even have made it to the bedroom. Maybe I’d have taken her right there on the steps—her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around me, my cock driving inside her over and over again.