Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
I grab one of the couch cushions and place it under my head, trying to convince myself it’s as comfortable as the pillow on my bed.
“Here,” Marley says, shoving a pillow and a blanket at me.
I smirk up at him in all his shirtless glory. I know it’s a little fucked up to be checking the man out after what happened not too long ago four feet from where I’m lying, but I can’t help how my cock reacts to him. The fucker has a mind of its own. “Awww, you like me. You really like me.”
“Can’t have you hurting your back and fuckin’ up our shows.”
Fuck, why does him saying that piss me off? “Keep telling yourself it’s all about business, Marley. I’m sure if you repeat the mantra long enough, you’ll eventually be able to convince yourself it’s true.”
Marley nods his head and without a word, goes back into the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
CHAPTER 8
Marley
Ativan—lorazepam—works both as a blessing and a curse. The drug is a miracle in ending panic attacks. When you take the pill, it’s as if all the worries in life float away. Once you open your eyes and the euphoric emotions the drug provides wear off, you’re stuck back in purgatory.
My mind still holds remnants of the fog as I glance over at the side table. Ativan, though, my favorite out of my pharmaceutical concoctions, is not the only drug I have to take. My hand reaches for the bupropion. Unlike the Ativan, I take these daily.
I glance at the piano keys etched on my wrist and remind myself why I can’t miss a pill, because without them, I’m drowning. They are the frayed edges of the rope that give me hope I can be okay.
My body shifts and I sense a heavy weight on my legs. When I attempt to move, I realize there are two muscular legs draped around mine and a thick arm encircles my waist. My body shifts and a small moan falls from Iggy’s mouth.
My mind swirls with a multitude of questions. How did he end up in my bed? Why is he in my bed? Why do I like his body entwined with mine so damn much? How am I going to navigate this? The truth of the matter is that as much as I might believe this current predicament is an issue, I yearn for it. So does my painfully raging cock.
I have to fuckin’ end the madness.
Iggy means too much for me to fuck it up for a release. I shouldn’t have done what I did with that groupie. My brain wasn’t computing with logic. All I felt was bitterness as Iggy touched another person. The lust and desire that consumed me for him had me making the wrong decisions and not thinking my idiotic plan through. I’d fucked up in so many ways and the idea that I’ve intrinsically changed the most important relationship in my life has my stomach lurching.
Iggy sleeps peacefully beside me, his large frame appearing like a small child curled in the safety of a warm bed with no care in the world. I wonder what it’s like to know peace like that because when I slumber, I’m still surrounded by nightmares.
My fingers brush the hair from his forehead, careful not to disturb him. If I could, I’d stay in bed with Iggy all day, watching his chest rise and fall. I never thought I’d find a man beautiful, but Iggy is a masterpiece. A smile falls on my lips as I think about how my feelings for him must have always been there under the surface, slowly simmering until it boiled over. Yet that emotion that causes this irrefutable yearning for him, that causes every fiber of my being to burn, also causes my lungs to constrict and my mind to rage with debilitating fear. Loving your soulmate is earth-shattering because if things go south, you end up obliterated.
There isn’t much in life I’m sure of, but I know Iggy is too important, and I have to fight against the urges that I have for him. I have to fight against these feelings and desires to keep our relationship safe. As much as it pains me, I shove Iggy off me and jump out the bed.
“What the fuck?” Iggy demands, his voice groggy. He rises from the floor, glaring at me. “What the fuck is your problem, Marley?”
“Did you do anything fucked up last night?”
He grits his teeth. “Like making you eat my jizz from a groupie’s pussy?”
Fair enough. That was a fucked-up thing to do. “I was high.”
“Bullshit,” Iggy spits. “Bull-fuckin’-shit. You don’t get high; that’s my thing. When you sent that girl over, you were sober. The only thing that was happening then that’s not now is that you weren’t overthinking like you always do.” Iggy walks around the bed, taking slow steps until he stands right in front of me. “You acted on impulse.” I take a step back so I can breathe, the oxygen in the room suddenly limited. “You fuckin’ enjoyed telling me what to do.” He shoves my chest with his finger. “Your cock got nice and hard when I took your orders like a good boy.”