Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“No,” she finally says. “I have nothing to say. I need you to do some talking.”
“About what?”
I instantly regret the words.
I know exactly what she wants to hear.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I wish there were something more I could say. I behaved horribly. And I’m sorry.”
“What happens if I am pregnant, Brock? What happens then?”
“Can’t we just wait and see what happens? Deal with it then?”
From the look on her face, I can see clearly that’s not what she was looking for in a response. But it’s all I can give her right now.
She’s ready for a baby.
I’m not.
God, I do love her, though. I love this beautiful woman. I never expected to fall in love, not at my age, at least. Sure, marriage, a family—they were all down the pike for me.
I figured maybe in my midthirties.
Not at twenty-four.
Not when…
Not when my family is being upended at every turn.
If only I could confide in her, tell her. But do I really want to lay that on her? When she’s going through her own shit?
No, I do not.
“Fine.” She purses her lips. “If you don’t mind, Brock, I think I’ll be going.”
I widen my eyes. “Actually, Rory, I do mind.”
“Let me rephrase that, then. I’m going.” She stands, takes her plate, which consists of a half-eaten burger, a potato, and peaches that weren’t touched at all, to the sink.
In an instant I’m behind her, my body touching hers, my dick hard and pressing into the small of her back.
Probably not what she needs right now, but my dick responds to her.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper in her ear.
She stiffens, throws her food down the garbage disposal.
I hate wasting food. My mom drummed that into my head early on. People are starving, so we don’t waste food.
“I thought you were hungry,” I say to her.
“Turns out I’m not.” She turns off the garbage disposal. “If you’ll excuse me, please.”
I don’t move.
I place my arms around her on the counter so she’s trapped.
“Excuse me, Brock,” she says again.
“Please, Rory.”
She seems to relax then, soften a little.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t go.”
She says nothing more, but she doesn’t attempt to move.
I can’t help myself. I press my lips to her neck, inhale her soft and silky fragrance.
“Rory…” I rasp.
She turns then, turns to face me, and now my hard dick is pressing into her abdomen. “Brock, please tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want.”
“I’m not talking about that. We could go to bed right now. We’d both have a hell of a good time. Then we could forget for a few minutes what else is going on in our lives.”
“I think I’ve proved I can last more than a few minutes.”
She pushes me away then. “For God’s sake, Brock. Could you just be serious?”
I could grab her. I could kiss her hard. She’d respond. She and I both know this.
But I don’t want to take the easy way out with her. I don’t have it in me anyway, not after today. Not after what my dad and I discussed.
I walk to the table, grab my bottle of Fat Tire that I haven’t touched until now, and take a deep draft.
I’m not going to get drunk. I’m still not over last night. But the smooth ale coats my throat, eases the dryness.
I face Rory. “I won’t lie to you. I want you to come to bed with me. But you’re clearly not in the mood.”
“Who says I’m not in the mood?”
I stalk toward her. “Okay, then—”
She puts out her arms to stop me. “Just because I’m in the mood doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
“It’s always a good idea.”
“Not at the moment, Brock. Not at this freaking moment.”
“Just tell me what you want. Please.”
“Why should I have to spell it out for you? You’re a grown man. A grown, intelligent man.”
“Are you going to make me say it? With everything else that’s going on, are you going to make me say it?”
She wrinkles her forehead. Is she truly that clueless about how I feel about her?
Of course she is. I offered to produce this recital for her. I told her no one would hurt her on my watch.
But I also treated her poorly last night.
Very poorly.
I’ve apologized, but I know enough about women—from my mother—to know that a simple apology of words, while it may be enough for the long term, won’t suffice in the short term. Women take time to get over things. It’s how they’re wired. Men are different.
Men can have a knock-down, drag-out and then be ready to fuck a minute later.
Yeah, we’re wired a lot differently.
“Say what? What are you talking about, Brock?”
“I’m done talking,” I say.
Then I do what I’ve been fighting. I crush my mouth to hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RORY
I don’t want to love this kiss.
With everything in me, I want to push him away, tell him we’re over.