Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
From inside the tall glass walls, Milo rinses the suds from his hair and shakes his head, eyes blinking open.
“You made … a baby with her.” I’ve managed a full day, keeping my emotions in check. But I can’t do it a second longer.
Milo blinks away the water and frowns. “I donated sperm.”
Wiping my eyes, I shake my head.
“A fucking petri dish, Indie. He was made in a petri dish and implanted into another woman.”
“Four years, and you’ve never put your dick inside her?” I try to keep my voice down, but it’s hard. I’m livid.
Drawing a long breath, he clenches his jaw and releases the breath through his nose.
I nod slowly, taking a step backward. “That’s what I thought.”
Milo’s finger jabs a button, turning off the water. Keeping his gaze on me, he snags a white towel from a neat stack of them and dries his hair before wrapping it around his waist.
“Don’t ever try to find me,” I whisper, taking another step backward.
“You can’t run. I can’t let you do that.”
“I will never forgive you for helping him find me. I will never forgive you for hiding the truth from me. And I will never forgive you for sticking your dick inside her.” Anger and heartbreak tangle, forming a monstrous lump in my throat while my eyes burn.
“I don’t need your forgiveness. I need your cooperation.”
“Fuck you.” I spit on him.
His eyebrows shoot into tall peaks a second before he tips his chin, watching my saliva slide down his abs. I barely blink before he backs me into the door, a firm grip on my jaw forcing me to look up at him. “I need you to grow the fuck up long enough for me to get my sister back. Hate me all you want. I deserve every ounce of it. But Annie did nothing. So hole up in this goddamn castle of his, keep your head down, and your mouth shut. And when it’s over, you can run as hard and as far as you want. You can hate me for a million eternities. But I need you to fucking do this for me.” His voice breaks on the last few words.
His Adam’s apple bobs in a hard swallow.
His breaths quicken.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
In four years, I haven’t felt this alive. It doesn’t matter that his touch isn’t kind, that his words make me bleed.
Loosening his grip on my jaw ever so slightly, his thumb brushes my cheek. I can’t move, except my heart … it throbs, each beat reverberating along my skin, a fire spreading out of control. A harsh breath falls from my mouth as his thumb touches my lower lip.
Milo ducks his head, mouth an inch from mine, breath mingling with mine. His thumb tugs on my lip, brushing along the inside of it. When the tip of my tongue grazes his thumb, his lips part a little wider. I can hear his heartbeat; I think I can feel it.
My hands ball at my side to keep from touching him, but god … I want to.
Eyes glossed over, each exhale releases a little harsher when his thumb dips farther into my mouth. My lips wrap around it, and his eyes drift shut. The door behind me creaks on its hinges when Milo presses his other hand against it above my head as if he needs it to steady himself.
If his lips touch mine, the last thread will snap. I know it. He knows it.
Memories have never felt as tangible, concrete, and alive as they do now. I can taste his lips from four years ago. I can feel him between my legs as if he were there now. His tongue laving across my breast, teeth teasing my nipples.
Milo’s nose touches mine, inhaling while withdrawing his thumb from my mouth. He’s going to kiss me, and I’m going to let him. I’m going to let him do anything he wants to me.
But he doesn’t … he doesn’t kiss me. His lips are right there.
I lean in, and he pulls away just enough to deny me. The warm tips of his fingers skate down my neck to my shoulder, easing the strap of my sundress to my arm. With one of my bare breasts exposed, Milo rests his forehead on mine, panting like he’s ten miles into a marathon.
He doesn’t kiss me.
He doesn’t touch my breast or rub his thumb along my hard nipple.
He’s torturing me as if he’s afraid to cross some line that he knows doesn’t exist between us. It never has, and it never will.
Do I care if he fucks me right here, with his wife and son within earshot?
No.
A whoosh of air fills my lungs when he drops to his knees, his towel loosening around his waist. It’s unexpected, and my heart can’t take anymore. If he doesn’t touch me … really touch me … I will lose my ever-loving mind.