Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Wade . . . I need . . .”
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it you.”
“You,” she says, breathlessly. “I need you.”
“You have me, Lemon. Heart, soul, mind, and body.”
But this isn’t enough, at least not tonight, and against my better judgment, I give in when her fingers undo the button on my jeans and she somehow maneuvers her shorts off.
“We can’t, Lemon.”
She pauses and looks at me like I have three heads.
“Believe me, I want nothing more than to be with you right now. But we can’t.”
“Am I going to regret asking why?”
I shake my head slowly and trail my fingers over her cheek. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Don’t all men have condoms?”
Another shake. “I’m not all men, Lemon. Sleeping around isn’t something I do. Besides, a man who’s in love with someone doesn’t find other women to occupy their time.”
It’s like she needed this moment to finally grasp how I feel about her.
“I haven’t been with anyone since you, Wade.” Her cheeks flush. “I’m embarrassed to admit this.”
I swallow hard as words escape me. Over the years I’ve had nightmares after seeing her at school or walking across the street, wondering who has taken my place in her life. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There isn’t anything you can say,” she tells me. “I’ve never gotten over you.”
“I know the feeling.”
She starts rocking against me again, the only barrier between us are thin pieces of fabric. I can feel her . . . remember her with each graze over my hard on.
When her hand snakes through the opening in my boxers, my eyes roll back. I hiss when the cool air washes over my heated flesh. Lemon strokes my dick, up and down. Up and down. I could get lost in the sensation, the way her hand feels gripping me. I know I should touch her, make her feel good, but I’m so lost in the memory of us I’m afraid to move.
My eyes open quickly when I feel the weight of her shift. With my hands on her hips, I look at her. “Lemon, we shouldn’t.”
“I know,” she says as she sinks down on my shaft. “Tonight. Right here. Just fuck me.”
Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to tell her no.
But I don’t.
sixteen
lemon
The sunlight streaming through my window would normally make me smile. I roll over and face my closet which doesn’t do anything to change the mood I woke up in because I can see Wade’s hat sitting there on the shelf, mocking me. Reminding me of what an epic failure my life is right now.
Everything in me says I’m supposed to be pissed because I have to walk to work today and figure out how to get my car to Murphy’s Garage. I’m going to have to beg Landon to tow it or go out and change the tire. Assuming he has a tire readily available to swap out for me. And this is if I can even remember where my damn car is.
No, that’s not why I’m in a shitty mood. It’s because of my actions yesterday, and the way I threw myself at Wade. Not only did I initiate everything, but I didn’t seem to give a shit about protection and straddled him like it was business.
He felt so good.
I close my eyes and beg my conscious to think about anything but Wade.
It doesn’t.
My fingers touch my lips and then trail down my chest, over my breast and then across my nipple. A shudder moves through me and last night’s activities flash in my mind. Having his hands on me, his fingers in me—having sex in the cab of his truck was exhilarating. It was hot, sexy, and dangerous. We’d done it countless times when we were younger, but this seemed different. It was unexpected and wanted.
And yet, it shouldn’t have happened. Wade Jenkins is my weakness, and I need to go back to ignoring him. Nothing good can come from being with him or allowing myself to feel any type of attraction to him.
It’s time for me to look for another job. To move away from Magnolia Grove and start over. Pining for someone like this isn’t healthy and seeing him every day—him and his daughter—will never get easier.
I get out of bed and head right to the shower. I didn’t bother washing him off me last night because part of me wanted his scent to linger, to fill my sheets with his musky cologne. But no more. All reminders of him need to go.
I scrub every inch of my body, crying while I do. It’s not from the pain I’m inflicting upon my body, but from the memories I’m trying to erase. Even my body betrays me when it comes to Wade.
But no more.
After I get out of the shower, I dry off, lotion up which is also a mistake because my skin is sore from my vigorous washing and wrap myself in my bathrobe.