Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
I take it from his hand. My eyes travel down his broad chest. Every muscle is on full display. He might not be in the Navy anymore but he still looks like he is. Small scars mark up his olive-colored skin. I know it was from the shrapnel. I want to touch them all. Kiss them. I’ll never forget the day the Meyers got the call that Beau was in a coma.
“Go change,” he orders. His voice is gruff. I jump to, running to the bathroom and stripping off my clothes. When I come back out, he’s sitting on the side of his massive bed in sweatpants now. He’s put on another shirt, hiding his scars from me.
“Am I sleeping in your bed?” His eyes travel up my bare legs. His shirt falls almost to my knees. I smell like him.
“Yeah.” He pulls the covers back on the other side of the bed. I scurry over, quickly slipping into the bed. He flips the lights off, filling the room with darkness. A moment later he’s pulling me into his arms, wrapping himself around me like I’m his favorite pillow. He buries his face in my hair.
I relax into him, not caring about the million questions flooding my mind. I’ve wanted to be here for so long I’m going to enjoy it for tonight. I can allow myself this. I shift, making myself comfortable and snuggling deeper into him.
“Stop wiggling. I’m fighting myself already.”
I freeze. His hard cock is pressed right into my ass.
“Maybe…”
“Don’t. I’m begging you. You’ve been drinking. I only have so much self-control when it comes to you.”
I don’t think Beau has ever had to beg for anything in his whole life, but here he is begging me. I shouldn't want it but I’m taking it.
I let my eyes fall closed, not sure I want tomorrow to come. Between the dancing, drinks and running around all day, sleep pulls me under. There is no fighting it. I’m not sure there is any fighting Beau either. The last thing I hear before I drift off are his words.
“Night, dream girl.”
7
Beau
My eyes fly open, realizing I dozed off for a moment. The sun peeking through my closed shutters lets me know that I haven't only fallen asleep for a little while. In fact, I feel more rested than I have in years. If Carey’s warm body wasn't pressed into mine, I would have thought I dreamed last night.
Her breaths come slowly and steady. My hand is resting on her stomach under the shirt I’d given her to wear. My cock jerks to attention, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against my hand. I want more, but I don’t want this moment to end. I know if I move I’ll wake her, and I’m not sure what that will bring. I’m not ready to lose the feeling of her in my arms pressed against me. She sleeps with so much trust in my arms. A trust I haven’t earned.
Thank fuck I didn't have a nightmare. It would have scared the hell out of her if she woke to me screaming out her name. The nightmare of her in hell with me is never far when sleep does find me. All this time I’ve been so scared to flood her with my demons, and all along she might have been the cure.
Knowing I’m in for a fight to keep her, I slowly ease her out of my arms so I can get out of the bed. The first order of business is breakfast. Isn't that what men do the morning after? I shake the stupid thought because it doesn't matter what others do. I know what I’m going to do; that need to take care of her has been with me from the moment she walked into my life. Now I get to have a more hands-on approach with it.
I head into the bathroom and clean myself up quickly. I stare down at my hard cock thinking I should take care of it. It won’t really matter because it will be back the second I see her again. I leave it be, trying to not think about the way her panties felt as I’d slipped my hand out from under the shirt. There is no way I’m getting off without getting her there first. A case of blue balls can be my punishment.
I fold the clothes that she left on the bathroom floor then set them on the counter. I stare at her phone. I can see on the screen she has missed texts from my sister. I take it into the bedroom quickly. I lift her hand and put her thumb on the sensor to open it for me. I know it’s wrong on some level, but I quickly share her location with me before putting it on the nightstand next to her. It’s a bastard thing to do, but I can’t find the will to care. It’s one of the many reasons I know I’m not good enough for her.