Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Okay. Fine. Daily Mail––what’s the problem?”
“Tennis darling caught by fiancé, celebrity trainer Oliver Wakefield, having an affair with local man who killed his parents,” she reads out loud, her Russian accent making it sound more nefarious than it is.
My stomach sinks.
“Katya, this is…none of this is true.”
“Does it matter? Endorsement deals are riding on image. Clean image––of nice girl, good girl. Next door girl.”
“Girl next door,” I correct.
“Does it matter?”
It’s my turn to breathe out in frustration. “No.”
“I speak to yogurt company and pasta company today. All is okay but you come home, yes? Back to London.”
Nuts. Nuts. Nuts. And triple nuts.
For a minute paranoia gets a hold of me and I conjure delusions of some universal mass conspiracy to keep Noah and me apart.
“I need more time,” I say, noting the desperation in my voice. In that moment I know in my heart of hearts that I never want to be apart from him again. Whatever it takes. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave, Katya.”
* * *
Noah
I’m in the back room tinkering with the mechanical bull, making sure everything is hooked up properly before we let people ride tonight. I know something’s very wrong the moment I see her walk through the doorway.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I stand and she slowly walks over to me. It’s still a surprise, seeing her every day, being able to touch her––something I thought I’d never experience again. And I’m so greedy for more the force of it sometimes scares me.
She presses against me and rests her forehead on my chest.
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.” She lifts her face and her green eyes shine like morning dew on spring grass...the shit that crosses my mind these days.
“My manager wants me back in London.”
Worst words I’ve ever heard. Every muscle in my body tenses. Dread spins in my gut. I hold my breath for the inevitable to happen, for her to tell me she’s leaving. I know she can’t stay and there’s no question I can’t go. I’m not sure where that leaves us, but I do know that I can’t survive losing her again. “And, are you?”
“I don’t want to be without you again.”
Best fucking words I’ve ever heard. My eyes fall closed for a moment as relief fills my chest and my heart rate slowly gets back to normal.
“I can’t lose you…I can’t…I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.” Unpracticed, the words come rushing out.
“We’ll make it work,” she affirms with a shaky laugh and hope in her eyes, now damp with tears.
God, I love her, so much it feels like it could split me in two some days. All I want to do for the rest of my life is make her happy.
I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips, brush back her hair and run my thumb along her jaw. Her chin lifts and she kisses me back. Harder, with a quiet desperation.
Her hands are on me, brushing up my chest, moving down to cup my balls and stroke the hard length of my dick over my jeans.
“Babe…umm…shit…umm…here?” I almost unload in my pants when she squeezes the head.
“Yes. Why are you still dressed?” Reaching between us, she rips the buttons of my jeans open, shoves her hand inside my underwear, and grips my shaft the way I like it. Hard and rough. I glance over her shoulder, to double check no one’s around, but I can’t focus when her hand is wrapped around me and pumping.
I grunt. “Staff will be here in an hour.”
“I need you, Freckles,” she mumbles, calling me by the nickname she gave me when she loved me with all her heart. She hasn’t said it yet but I can be patient. I’ll wait till the end of time if I have to.
That’s all it takes for me to surrender, to give her everything she wants. She got my heart a long time ago, now she can have the rest. I run my hands over her breasts. Nip the delicate skin at her throat and jaw. It’s so good with her. We’ve always fit together perfectly, like we were made for each other. But this, now, it’s even better.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it felt wrong with other women. After she left, I tried moving on. But each time made me feel worse and worse. Like I was betraying her all over again. Until I just stopped one day. Going without sex was easier than having to face myself in the mirror the day after a hookup.
Getting impatient, she fumbles with the buttons of her jeans. I sweep her hands away, yank them open, and push them down her hips, dragging her panties with them. Then I bend her over the bull, caress her sweet, sweet ass and kiss it. I could spend a lifetime kissing her ass and it still wouldn’t be enough.