Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Oh, sure. You looked like you were trying real hard to get her hands out of your jeans. She was practically giving you a hand job!”
“The fuck she was!”
I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I’m not going down this road again. I’ve spent way too much time trying to heal.”
“And how the fuck do you think it’s been for me, huh? You were my world. My everything. And you dropped me without allowing me to defend myself, without trusting in me, in us. You tore my heart out and didn’t even look back. Moved on like we were nothing! So don’t you tell me I broke your heart when you shattered mine.”
“I wasn’t enough for you, so you had to cheat.”
“And you didn’t love me enough to listen.”
“Fuck you. I loved you with every fiber of my being. I loved you so much I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die. Do you know how that feels? My world crashed and burned that day. I wanted to fucking die!”
He’s on me, his mouth crashing over mine. The fire between us is uncontrollable. I’m up in his arms, pressed up against the wall. Shoving his jeans down, he tears at my only pair of underwear until it snaps, and he pistons inside me. Each thrust is hard and ruthless. The mixture of pain and pleasure clouds my vision, but I take every bit of him.
“More,” I pant, hooking my fingers into his hair.
“You’re fucking maddening.” He plunges his tongue down my throat, kissing me with unwavering passion. His cock drives into me, and my walls start to tighten. He suddenly grows thicker and spasms inside me.
Each breath is a struggle.
My heart threatens to jump out of my chest.
His is just as erratic.
“We have to stop this hate fucking,” I breathe out. “This is seriously unhealthy. Not to mention messed up.” His lips press against my collarbone. He doesn’t kiss me or move for a moment. “Easton, say something.”
He pulls away and allows my feet to hit the floor. “I think we’ve said enough.” He tucks himself back in his jeans and walks away, shutting himself in his room.
Chapter seven
Easton
“Let me talk to her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. How about you get off my doorstep, or I’ll neuter you with the heel of my shoe.”
“Just let me see her, Tory. I need to fucking see her!”
“And she doesn’t want to see you. Or talk to you. Or anything, you piece of shit! So why don’t you go rot in hell.”
“This isn’t about you, so stay the hell out of it. Callie! Callie, Please! Just talk to me! Please! I love you! I love you, Callie!”
“Stop yelling. You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood.”
“I don’t give a shit. Please. . . please let me see her.”
I’d spent months trying. Begging. Borderline stalking, but Callie never spoke to me. Her friends moved her things out of my place, and whatever I had at hers ended up in flames on my doorstep in the middle of the night. She was done with me. The weeks after were a blur, drinking myself into oblivion. I wanted to feel numb, but no amount of alcohol rid her from my mind. A few months later, I got a call from a man named Sammy Stone. He’d gotten my info from my current construction company, asking if I was interested in a job opportunity. A two-year contract renovating cabins. My options were to sit around, killing myself with booze and resentment, or take the job. I packed my shit up the next day, leaving my life behind.
At first, the solitude was good for me. I worked until my muscles ached, came home, and fell into bed, too exhausted to think about Callie. And then I did it all over again the next day. Consistency was my lifesaver. Stay busy, stay too tired to think, and I would survive. Each day would get easier in hopes that maybe she would just be an afterthought one day. But that day never came. It’s been a year and a half, and I’m so fucking tired.
And then she shows up on my front porch. I thought I was imagining it. Being alone for so long, your mind starts playing tricks on you. It wouldn’t have been the first time I thought I’d seen her. Wished her to be with me. But in my dreams, she always smiled. Gifted me those glistening eyes. When the vision in front of me started cussing like a sailor, I knew this time she was real.
Having her in my arms again was complete torture. The reminder of how soft her skin felt. The sweet taste of her pussy against my lips. And those little purrs of pleasure. She was perfect in every way. Being inside her after so long almost broke me. It’s as if that instant dominance that seared through my veins every time we fucked, made love, never went away. The bond we shared was nothing we could describe. She owned me just as much as I owned her. Fuck, my cock becomes hard imagining her under me. Those intense, greedy eyes blazing up at me with desire. It also triggers her words from earlier. We have to stop this hate fucking. Anger builds, and I clench my jaw. Hate fucking isn't how I would begin to describe it. Incredible. Mind-blowing. The feeling of coming home. I want to storm out there and make her take back all the bullshit she spewed. She doesn’t hate me. And to be honest, I don’t hate her. I still love her. I never stopped. Despite what she did, I wasn’t lying when I told her my heart belonged to her. And that’s never changed.