Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
His eyes bore into mine, the inky blackness of his pupils softened by the very obvious presence of his soul.
And slowly, so slowly, he begins to move. Steady and firm but gentle at the same time. It pulls at every nerve in me—the ones his strokes touch and the ones they don’t alike.
I lick at my lips to try to keep my heart from exploding out of my throat, and Noah leans down to catch a nip of my tongue. It’s all so intimate—so genuine—I can hardly believe this is our first time together.
Intensity builds deep inside me, clawing at my every pore to get out. My back arches, my toes curl, my head falls back, and on a cry of ecstasy, I come with a man for the very first time in my life.
Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus. I just had the best sex of my existence. And it wasn’t with the man I started the night with.
Very Early Morning, Monday, May 16th
“Sammy.”
“Sammy.”
My eyes pop open harshly, eyelids pulling at the dry surface of my corneas, and a gasp sucks all the breath from my lungs.
My mom radar scans the darkness of my bedroom in confusion, trying to find the tiny human who must be in need of something. After all, it’s the way I most frequently wake up.
“It’s okay,” Noah’s warm voice comforts instead.
I look to my left to find him sitting on the edge of the mattress, fully dressed. “I have to head into the hospital for an emergency triple bypass.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “What time is it?”
“A little after four,” he says and reaches out to brush some of my hair out of my eyes. “I didn’t want to wake you up, but I also didn’t want you to wake up and think I bailed.”
It takes my mind a moment to even understand what he’s saying, and then it hits me as I glance down at the very naked top half of my body.
My kids aren’t home. Which is probably good because Noah and I had sex last night.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers and leans forward to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
I nod. Or at least, I think I nod. All my basic functions are still in sleep mode, and with the way my head feels, I’m pretty sure all the wine I had last night isn’t helping either.
Fingers gently holding my chin, Noah searches my eyes for a long moment before he presses one more kiss to my lips and stands up.
When I hear the front door of my apartment click shut, I let my head fall back onto my pillows on a sigh. My eyes are already closed again, and my breaths are growing heavier by the second.
I’m far too sleepy to contemplate what last night means, but I’m not too out of it—or naïve—to understand that I’m going to have to figure it all out soon.
Once a turkey is cooked, it won’t be good in the fridge forever.
And it’s safe to say mine is… roasted.
A cab honks, and I jump back onto the sidewalk as it zooms right in front of me. I’d love to say he’s a reckless driver, but I’m the one with my head up my ass this morning.
Noah Philips and I had sex. S-e-x.
My mind has been reeling over that fact ever since I got out of bed at around nine this morning. Noah was long gone by then, but I vaguely remember him waking me up to tell me he had to leave to go into the hospital.
I don’t remember what time that was, but I know it was early. I also don’t remember falling asleep together after the sex, but I guess that’s exactly what we did.
My phone vibrates in my purse as I shuffle through a small group of tourists that are huddled together for a selfie. Figuring it’s Brooke asking for my ETA, I snag it from the front pocket and check the screen.
Gavin: I haven’t stopped thinking about you.
This is the second text he’s sent me this morning. The first one read, I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you last night, Sam. Please forgive me. Call me whenever, okay?
It’s safe to say neither message is helping unclog my muddled head.
I know Gavin was frustrated last night. And I don’t condone the way he spoke to me, but I guess there’s also a part of me that can understand his frustration. From his perspective, he probably felt like I’d been stringing him along for God knows how long and everything was pointing to some kind of conclusion on my part.
That doesn’t make any of it right, but in his defense, he probably feels like I’ve taken him on a wild-goose chase with how back-and-forth and wishy-washy I’ve been this whole time.