Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He looked like success. The expensive suit was tailored to fit perfectly on his powerful build. The watch had a ring of diamonds glinting from its face. He looked exactly like the image he had worked two decades to create. Strong. Fierce. Successful.
He looked in the mirror and didn’t see any of the fear that gripped his heart. Fear that, decades ago, he had sworn to destroy. Fear that, pre-Bell, didn’t exist.
He swallowed, placing his hands on either side of the marble sink, and leaned toward the mirror, staring into his own eyes.
“He’ll kill me.” Gwen had believed the words, her face pinching in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time.
He was supposed to protect women, not endanger them. But right now, if he kept moving forward, he’d put them both in danger. The only two women he’d ever loved, at risk because he couldn’t control his dick and his heart.
He should give up. Step back into his role. Ship Bell off to fucking Alaska and set her up with an apartment and job there. Send her money every month and beg her to ignore his calls.
Because he would call. He would visit. He would drop to his knees in front of her Alaskan apartment and beg her to marry him. There was no way, with her somewhere on this earth, that he’d be able to stay away.
He was fucked any way he turned. Killing himself if he ended things with Bell. Endangering both her and Gwen if he chose Bell. There was no scenario where this wouldn’t end badly.
Give me a few hours. He needed a few lifetimes to figure this out, but would barely last a few hours without seeing her.
He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped back into the restaurant. Gwen stood by the entrance, her Ferrari visible through the glass, a white-gloved attendant pulling open the door.
A few hours. She smiled at him, and he could see the thin veneer of her composure.
Fuck Robert Hawk. Fuck his callous and ruthless soul. Fuck his barbaric need for control.
Gwen didn’t deserve this. None of them did.
* * *
The steam filled the shower, a thousand individual streams of water hitting his skin and scalding his muscles. He pressed a hand against the tile wall, hanging his head, the water running down his face. Rolling his neck, he felt the bones crack into place.
The shower door opened and he lifted his head to see Gwen step in, her hair loose, expression quiet. He turned, facing her, and she closed the door, moving forward and into the spray.
“Gwen…” His voice cracked, and it was a plea more than a name. Please don’t make me tell you no. Please don’t press this. Please don’t cry and beg and break my heart. She moved closer, pressing her body against his, and he slid his hands down the side of her body, closing them around her waist. She lifted her chin, her face free of the spray, and he watched as her hair grew damp, water splattering across her shoulders, rivulets running down her breasts, the brush of her nipples against his chest.
He hadn’t seen her naked in years, the passing time softening her curves and edges. She was a beautiful woman. She deserved to be admired, to be lusted after, to be pleased. But not by him. Now, as she lifted onto her toes, her lips pressing against his neck, her body sliding along his, he felt nothing but sadness for her effort. He said her name softly, stepping away, and she pressed on, her leg slipping in between his, her thigh hard against his cock. She noticed his lack of arousal and lifted her chin, looking up into his eyes, and asking the question with her stare.
“I’m sorry.”
She tried to kiss him and he pulled away from her mouth but brought her into his body, his arms wrapping around her, hugging her frame against his chest. “I’ll always love you.”
She clung to him, her head against his heart, nails digging into his back, and said nothing.
After the shower, she dressed in jeans, a silk sweater and tennis shoes. He stood on the upper level of their suite and watched her move to the door, grabbing her keys off the hook.
He didn’t ask her where she was going. He watched her leave and walked down the hall, turning on the light in the closet, illuminating the neat rows of pressed and starched clothing.
Give me a few hours. He thought of Bell’s text and glanced at the clock, the time growing late. Reaching for a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt, he dressed. Eyed his phone. Stood on the balcony and wondered where, or to whom, Gwen had gone. He wasted a half hour with emails, checked in with department heads, and finally, just before midnight, got a text from Bell.