Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
But somehow, we would make it work. We had to. I had to.
Not tonight, buddy, I thought. But my girl was coming hard. Third in a row. It was enough for now. It had to be.
I didn’t stop until I had wrung every tremor, every squeal, and every convulsion from her hot little body. She looked utterly dazed when I leaned back and looked up at her with satisfaction. I helped her put her clothes back on and set her on my lap. Instead of being stressed, she was soft and fuzzy around the edges. I loved doing that to her. I loved being the only one who had ever done that to her.
I couldn’t wait to hold her close all night and take her again and again. To wake up with her in my arms and start the day knowing that she would be in my bed again that night.
Goddamn, that was going to be a very good day.
And if I were very, very lucky, the rest of my life would be filled with days and nights just like that.
Chapter Thirty
Melissa
"How do you feel?" Nick asked me. I blushed, feeling extremely embarrassed. But I didn't want to move from his lap, either.
"Good," I said shyly, hoping he would kiss me again. I wondered if he wanted to go further. I certainly did. But he didn’t make a move to take his clothes off. I wasn’t sure if it was cool to ask him to do more. He brushed the hair away from my face and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.
"Good," he said. "Because now we have to talk."
"We do?" I had a weird feeling of dread settle inside me. I didn't want to talk. Was he going to tell me he didn't like me? Was that the reason he wasn't taking me to bed? "Do we have to?" I asked hopefully.
He chuckled and shook his head.
"Melissa, only you could make me laugh at a time like this. But yes, we do."
He sent me on my feet and took my hand, leading me into the dining room. Then he went back to the entryway and got the letters out of the desk. I sat there feeling a lot like a kid at the principal’s office. Not that I'd ever been in the principal’s office.
Well, maybe once or twice.
Nick sat at the head of the table and took my hand.
“We're going to talk about these bills, but first, I have to tell you a story. I'm not sure you know this, but I also grew up on a farm.”
He smiled then. It was a wistful, beautiful smile. My heart did a little flip-flop at how absurdly handsome he was. It really was not fair.
“My dad died when I was pretty young and my mom got sick not long after. Not sick like Meg. She died early from congenital heart disease. We were trying to run the farm, just the two of us, and it was too much for her. At one point, it was just me. And then we lost it. That was before she died. I know that the stress of it made everything so much worse for her.”
"How old were you?" I asked, surprised at how similar our stories were.
“I was seven when my dad died. That's when I took over doing a lot of the labor. It was a few years later when the farm got repossessed. I was close enough to eighteen that I wasn’t shuffled off to foster care.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I had to find a neighbor to house Hendrix at first. I worked at the local farms, a gas station, I did anything I could to make enough to keep him in oats and hay. He is the one who got me through it all. And this place . . . you and your family . . . you got both of us through the rest of it. My brothers too, of course. But they're not horse people. They don't understand.”
I swallowed as emotions overwhelmed me. I knew what he meant. I’d had no idea at all of everything he had been through. It only made me admire him more.
"For a long time now, a really long time . . . it's been my dream to regain that farm. The bank still has it. I go there now and then to make sure things don't fall down completely. But my dream has changed. Because of you."
I held my breath.
“I have the money to save the stables.”
"Oh, Nick . . . I can't let you do that."
"Are we together?" he asked me. "Am I your man?"
"I want you to be. If you want to be . . ."
"If . . ." He laughed and it was almost a bitter sound. "How can you ask me that, Melissa?"