Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Unhealthy enough to hallucinate?”
“You told me you have nothing, Syd. No home, no family, nothing. You lost your scholarship, your lifeline to your degree. Yes. I think that’s enough. That’s enough to push anyone’s mind over the edge.” He takes a long sip of his tea. “Sometimes our brains have a hard time letting go. Letting go of events, letting go of places, letting go of people…”
“Is that why you have lipstick in your bathroom?” I spring on him, deciding to turn the tables.
Shame rains down on his face. He looks down at his mug, the steam rising, and doesn’t answer.
“Is that your ex’s lipstick?” I ask.
He nods.
My heart pinches in response.
“How long ago was it when she was last here?”
“A few years,” he says.
I try to act casual and blasé, as if it doesn’t bother me that he still keeps her stuff after all this time. “Well, you should probably throw it all out because it’s past its expiration date. No one wants to put on moldy La Mer.”
“Moldy La Mer,” he repeats, smiling softly. “Perhaps we could study it in the lab. Might be even better than the original.”
I’m too tired to find it funny. “Since it’s so rare for you to talk about yourself, don’t mind me while I psychoanalyze the torch you carry for her.”
“It’s just lipstick, Syd,” he says. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“So why did you really break up?”
“I told you.”
“But…isn’t love about sacrifice? I know that if I truly loved someone I would have put up with whatever inconvenient location I had to live in.”
“Perhaps our relationship wasn’t as strong as I thought,” he says bitterly, his gaze unkind. “Sometimes when people fall in love, they stay in love, because they were lucky. Other people have a wrench thrown into their relationship. Sometimes other people enter the picture and fuck things up. You don’t know what you’ll survive until something like that happens.”
“So shit got fucked up and then Keiko Lynn took that opportunity to go back to Japan.”
“Are you done?” he asks testily.
I shrug. “I just don’t get how you can be hung up on the past and yet…”
“And yet what?”
I shake my head. “Nevermind.” I take a long sip of tea.
“And yet what?” he repeats, putting his hand on my arm, the grip firm.
“And yet find yourself fixated on me.”
Part of me wants to look away, because what I’ve said is just so raw, for both of us, but I force myself to meet his eyes. They blaze as they hold me in place, the intensity enough for me to cause the hair on my arms to rise.
“Because you are my future, Syd,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “Because that’s all there is. The past doesn’t exist anymore. Only now and tomorrow is what does. And I want you—now and tomorrow.”
Before I can say anything, he leans forward and grabs my face, pulling me into a hard, deep kiss that makes my toes curl. I melt into him, surrendering all control as he claims me with his mouth. He tastes like flowers from the tea, like mint toothpaste, smells like home: the trees, the wild ocean.
That whimper rises up from him again, rattling his chest, sinking into my bones—a plea, a promise, desperation for me, for more. Our kiss deepens suddenly, like a ravenous beast has been unleashed, his tongue strong as it fucks my mouth, everything becoming wet and messy and raw.
Oh god, I think as the pleasure spikes through me. This might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.
I never want him to stop.
And yet, greedily, I want more.
I want to feel this way across my entire body. Not just my mouth claimed, but every inch of skin.
The grip on my jaw tightens as another hand goes to my neck, choking me slightly, pressing on the windpipe enough to cause me to suck in air, the threat of suffocation.
He pulls away, breathing hard, his mouth wet as he stares at me with heavy-lidded, burning eyes. His grip on my neck remains, possessive, on the border of being too much, while his other hand lets go of my chin and starts unbuttoning the front of my pajama top.
“I am a fool,” he murmurs as he swiftly undoes my shirt. “I am but a weak fool when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
He slides his hand inside my open top and gently cups my breast, his thumb slowly rolling over my nipple. I gasp, the nerves shooting straight to my core, heat pooling between my legs.
“God, you’re perfect,” he says, his other thumb now massaging my throat as he continues to hold me in place. His head dips down and he licks at my breast, tongue strong and flat, sucking in my nipple until my head rolls back and I’m writhing against him. The pressure on my neck increases, and I’m feeling lightheaded, and I never want him to stop.