Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“It starts in a house on this beach,” I begin trying to focus. “Where Cyrus, a busy and successful businessman is just walking across the yard to the door. He opens the door, knowing that his person, his other half, is inside. Waiting for him.”
He leans up on his elbow, his eyebrows arch. “And is it you?”
“Of course.” I laugh and then trail a finger down his chest. “Now, pay attention!”
“Smart businessman, got it.” He nods. “Continue.”
“I didn’t say smart.” I laugh, but “Yes, thank you, Ra, I’ll focus.”
He growls and kisses my cheek, his tongue slides down to my neck. I breathe him in. “That’s not focusing.”
“This is too distracting to the tired businessman, he’s been dealing with shit all day.” He chuckles against my neck.
“So…” I inhale, long and deep. Damn this man or god or whatever. “So, he glances around and spots her making dinner in a giant pot. She hasn’t seen him yet.”
“What’s in the pot?” Cyrus murmurs in my ear.
“What’s your favorite food?” I ask, snuggling closer to him.
“Food is not—”
“Shhh, this is a fantasy. If you had a favorite food, what would it be?”
“I love any sort of soup, anything with chicken.” He says it fast, like it’s the first thing off the top of his head. “It’s warm and it tastes delicious.”
“Okay, then.” I shift and pepper a few kisses along his jaw. “Chicken noodle it is.”
He kisses my mouth again. “I approve. So, what happens next? When he gets home and smells that soup?”
I smile. “He sneaks up behind her, all the while knowing she’s aware of his presence. She is always aware of him.” How could she not be? Tears well in my eyes. “He walks to her purposefully, and she hears him and smiles but doesn’t turn. His steps match the beat of her racing heart, until he’s right there. He wraps his arms around her from behind and nuzzles her neck.”
“But he smells like sweat, like work,” he points out.
“No.” I shake my head. “He smells like home.” A tear runs down my cheek. “He smells like fresh air. The sun. Heat. He smells like hers.”
Ra’s eyes fix on mine, and while I still see the chaos, the waves, the rain, I’m no longer afraid. The one thing I was so afraid of my entire life was where I came from.
Where I belong.
In his arms.
How tragic. How very, very tragic, to finally realize your fear is your truth and that fear—would one day be your comfort. That in your last moments you would beg for the storm and curse at the stillness.
As I continue the story, the cave around us morphs into a traditional home in the suburbs. Everything about it is modern, normal. Our kitchen overlooks a lake, and he’s sipping his wine while I smile at the child that will never be born, struggle with blocks. I want this life. I want it so bad I could scream. Our house has three stories. We have a boat. He likes to fish on it with our child. We laugh at night and watch stupid sitcoms. He tells me I’m pretty when I feel my worse and when I’m cold at night, he doesn’t shy away from my feet. He keeps them warm. It’s what he does.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
It isn’t fair.
This test.
This trial.
Him.
Because in the end, is it fair that I choose to die so he can live? The daughter of his enemy? The potential chaotic end to the world all because I want to watch our child grow?
I squeeze my eyes shut, they burn.
With the suddenness of lightning, he spins me in his arms and cradles my face in his large hands. He gazes into my eyes and then hungrily takes my mouth. He isn’t tender, when has he ever been tender or gentle? No, he’s aggressive, he wants, and I want to give more than anything. His tongue sweeps my lips, pushing inside, thrusting in and out in a timeless rhythm. He still tastes like the sea I’ve begun to crave. I shove past the thought that one day I won’t remember his taste. It will be like two deaths. Mine. His.
“Did you have a good day?” I manage to ask in our little fantasy world.
“The best, but none compares to coming home to you.” His smile is there but his eyes are sad, like he knows we’ve created this moment just for us and nobody else, something that no one can take away, something that neither of us will ever have.
He steps forward, causing me to walk backwards until I find my hips against the table. In one fast movement, he lifts me and sets me down on the hard wooden surface. His movements grow frenzied as he rips my white dress open, popping the buttons and sending them flying all over the floor. Cyrus moans when his eyes fall on my breasts, nipples already beaded with my arousal. He suckles first one, then the other. His breathing is uneven as he steps back and spreads my legs apart, he rips the rest of my dress away, I’m completely bare to him. He’s rough just the way I like it.