Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I moan, grinding against him. “Please, Luke. I want it so badly. I want us to have sex. I want you to explode inside of me. I want kids and a life together. I want happiness. I want…”
My hand is trailing down my body to the aching between my legs, the pulsing that tells me to rub firmly, but then I pause, thinking. Just because Luke seized a chance to kiss me in the forest, just because he’s physically attracted to me, it doesn’t mean he’d find any of this reasonable. If I told anyone about these crazed thoughts rushing through my head, they’d send me for psychological help.
I let my hand fall aside. It wouldn’t compare with him, the real thing. Anyway, intimacy just brings it back, the pain of what happened, the pain of what I’ve spent years avoiding. Do I really think the hit man can cure it? Or maybe he can give me so much pleasure, so much love, the pain won’t matter anymore.
Ha, love? I really am losing my mind.
I get out of bed, my body too full of energy, then pull open the door and walk across the hallway. Floorboards creak beneath me as I approach his bedroom. I know it’s his because Dad told me earlier.
This room is Luke’s. I stand outside it, getting myself ready. For what? For something… the life we’re going to share.
I reach down for the handle. Then common sense returns. Ignoring the aching in my body, I spin, stalk across the hall, and retreat into my room. Sitting on my bed, I try not to think of it, both the kissing with Luke in the forest and what happened before, the giant thing that makes the kissing and anything else impossible.
I fail.
Both swirl around my sleepless mind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Luke
It’s the middle of the night when I roll out of bed straight into a set of pushups, placing my fists against the floor and lowering myself until my body begins to strain, then exploding out of the movement.
Normally, sleep comes to me with more ease than most people might think, considering my position. They might assume nightmares would chase me into the depths of unconsciousness, but I’ve lived as a machine so long, focused on my work, on the day-by-day of life. Never thinking about the future.
Before, I was okay with this. Now that I’ve met my Violet, it seems crazy that I’d choose that sort of life for myself, one with no light to counterbalance the darkness. Hell, am I getting soft?
My body tells me no as I explode into more pushups, my arms roaring as I keep going, sweat coating my body, sliding down my skin as I pump, pump, pump. I do everything I can to make my body burn. In the end, I stand, wipe myself down with a towel, and walk to the window.
In the darkness of the surrounding forest, I imagine sunlight filtering through the trees. Violet stands in a gorgeous summer dress, the fabric light and dappling her body, outlining the shape of her with undeniable beauty.
She raises a big camera and snaps photos of our children. From this distance—physical distance from the forest, but also the chasm between this fantasy and making it a reality—I can’t tell if they’re boys or girls. I don’t care. All I care about is that they’re healthy, happy, and enthusiastic about life. Nothing will ever hurt them. I’ll make sure of that. They’ll be free to find their own passions.
It’s like I black out, giving the reins of my person over to the desire, the hunger swelling inside of me.
Suddenly, I’m standing outside Violet’s room. I move silently, giving Andrew little chance of hearing anything and coming out here. Standing so close to her door—so close to her—the kiss returns to me with full force. There’s so much heat in me trying to break free, my balls swelling again, my manhood getting hard.
This is wrong. I remember how she reacted. More than pissed. She’s hiding some darkness. I try to tell myself that after this mob stuff is over, we can see about dating, but dating seems too shallow for what we’ll share.
I need to turn away. Then I hear her moan, high-pitched and tempting. I place my ear against the door, biting down as savage impulses cascade through me, listening to the sound of her moans. They’re gentle and inviting, a shiver in them.
She’s touching herself, my horny young thing, stroking her soaked pussy. What is she thinking about?
My fists clench even tighter when I imagine her picturing another man, another encounter, anybody who’s not me. I’d find the prick and hurt him just for entering my woman’s mind. Maybe that makes me dark, jealous. I don’t give a damn.
I know better, but I push open the door, anyway. It whines softly on the hinges.