Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
When semi-coherent thought returned, I turned my head on the pillow and watched him. Propped up on an elbow, his hand gently stroked up and down my body. He was still hard. I reached over to touch him over his boxers, but he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.
Being denied brought out every puerile insecurity I ever had. I felt vulnerable, unsure of my self. “Let me do something for you,” I murmured. But whatever was going on in his head, his eyes kept hidden.
“Not tonight. I just want to hold you and go to sleep.”
“But––”
Interrupting, he reiterated, “That’s all I need right now.” He brushed his thumb on the delicate skin inside my wrist, soothing me into compliance.
“All right.” Wounded, I turned away, but he wouldn’t let me get far. He pulled me back into him, his large body cupping mine. A heavy muscular arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
For hours I stayed awake listening to the comforting sound of his breathing. I knew exactly when he let go and fell asleep. After an epic orgasm that at the very least should’ve helped me relax, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Regardless of what he said, he was quietly slipping away. And I had no idea how to stop it from happening.
Chapter Seven
The following morning I found my entourage in the kitchen. Bear and Justin were seated at the oak table, cleaning their handguns. Leaning back with their legs spread apart, their oversized bodies dwarfed the wooden chairs they occupied. The sight of all those weapons scattered on the table made my skin crawl. However, after what had happened with the red tailed hawks I didn’t need to be reminded that the threat on Sebastian’s life was very real.
“Marianne?”
“In the garden,” Bear answered.
I found her fondling the tomatoes, fat, ruby red ones hanging low on the delicate green stalks which sagged under their weight. She heard me approaching and an affectionate smile spread across her face, her bright blue eyes crinkling on the ends. Seeing that gap between her front teeth lifted my spirits.
“Do you have a moment?” I asked, my eyes falling on the bounty of vegetables overgrowing the fencing.
“Anything for you.”
I truly love this woman. The words rang loudly not just in my mind, but also my heart. My eyes timidly met hers. I didn’t know how to begin. Marianne was as close to a mother as Sebastian had––if anyone knew how to get through to him it was she––though discussing your lover with the person who raised him was awkward business.
“I don’t know what to do with him,” I announced, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “He’s keeping me at arm’s length.”
Plucking one by one off the vine, she placed the last of the ripened tomatoes in a basket. “He was besides himself when you went missing. And when you were in a coma…” Her words faded away, her lips pursed tightly. After a headshake, she continued. “God knows what would’ve happened if you didn’t come out of it.”
My knees weakened under the weight of all the guilt I carried around. I knew the burden of responsibility for his mental state shouldn’t be mine, and yet wasn’t the most important rule of loving someone as thoroughly as I loved this man, ‘first do no harm’?
“I’m not telling you to make you feel worse, chérie. Give him time to sort out his feelings. Just don’t let him push you away. He’s very good at that––shutting people out. It will only get harder if you let him.”
I had a pretty good idea of what that looked like.
“He didn’t speak to me for three months after his wife died. Did I ever tell you that?” All I could manage was a headshake. “I was besides myself. I was terrified of leaving him alone.” With a sideways glance, she said, “He did eventually hurt himself––he just did it slowly.” I thought of the state I found him when we met. The drinking, the oxycodone––he had been killing himself slowly.
Turning sharply to meet her steady gaze, the gravity of her confession hit me hard, my concern growing by the minute. Because I was armed with the knowledge that he had never been in love before. And if guilt could drive him over the edge of sanity and put his life at risk for India and the child he lost, what would the near loss of the person he was in love do to him?
“Diana came to the hospital,” I announced. Her bright blue eyes met mine, swimming in disapproval.
“He told me.” Grabbing a cotton towel, she wiped her dirt covered hands. “That woman leaves a wake of destruction everywhere she goes…but I’m afraid none of this will ever be resolved until he makes peace with it.”