Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Sweetheart.” His eyes latched on mine with an iron grip. “You’re killing me here.”
My body was soaked, and the fire had kindled. There was already ash and smoke from the burn. But I was so lost in the view, I let myself go. The connection felt deeper than two people who gave in to their lust in the middle of an art gallery. I’d desired him the moment I saw him in the rain, but my desire for him was deeper than the flesh…and the muscles and the ink. I finally let my body flow with the tide, let my body contract around his length with the strength of a viper, and I gave in to the tears that burned hot before they filled the corners of my eyes…and then fell.
He clenched his eyes shut briefly as his dick hardened even further inside me. A flush moved across his face and neck, a trail of heat that burned his skin. When he looked at me again, it was with the darkness and desire of the underworld. His hands squeezed me tight until it hurt, his dick filling me with another load, his stare claiming me like his body hadn’t already.
The relief was like a summer breeze that blew the strands from my face. All the aches and pains had been eased by his touch, the intimacy and desire he was unafraid to show. He said little, but he still wore his thoughts on his sleeve. Bolton lied to my face countless times, but Theo would tell the truth, no matter how deep it cut.
I felt my heart go weak because I already felt it. Already knew how invested I was in someone who warned he would never be invested in me. It was too soon to feel something so strong for someone when I wasn’t even divorced yet, but the intensity was so profound, it was easy to forget I was married in the first place.
I stayed on his lap, his dick still inside me, substantial despite the way he relaxed.
The intensity had faded from his eyes, but he continued to look at me like I was the most remarkable painting he’d ever seen. “Ever done that before?”
My eyes narrowed.
“In here.”
“God, no.” I was a good girl who always followed the rules. Never deviated from the plan. Couldn’t lie if my life depended on it.
He showed no sign of satisfaction with that. His eyes broke contact, and he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I’ve got shit to do.” He seemed to withdraw from me like a tide moving out to sea in the absence of the full moon.
It hurt. It hurt because it seemed like there was nothing I could do to change it. We had our moments, beautiful and surreal, but then he put up a wall again. Was the wall built of his resentment? Or was it precautionary? Was he determined to keep me at a distance in his mind so I would never approach his heart?
I didn’t ask.
I left his lap and picked up my clothes. With my back turned to him, I dressed. I righted the G-string the best I could, even though it was stretched out and loose after he’d tugged on it. I buttoned up my blouse and tucked it into my skirt. When I turned around, he was fully dressed, looking just as sexy in his shirt and jeans as he had when he was buck naked in that chair.
His hard stare settled on me.
I tried to save face. “Thanks for lunch” Thanks for the dick, is more like it.
He ignored what I said. “You’re angry.”
That intuition was still as sharp as ever. “I’m not angry.”
“Then what are you?”
“I thought you had shit to do.”
He stepped closer to me. “I just told you I’m never too busy for you, sweetheart. So tell me what just happened.”
My arms crossed over my chest, and my eyes moved elsewhere.
He continued to stare hard at my face, his heat like the sun.
“The second I feel close to you, you disappear.” I stared at the blank wall that had captured our attention at different times. “You said you would try, but you’re doing a shitty job of it.”
He was quiet for a long time, like he had nothing to say to that. But then his deep voice broke the silence. “I told you I needed time.”
“You’re going to need an eternity if you keep pulling away like that.” I turned my stare back on him. “Two steps forward, three steps backward. Even at eternity, we’ll still be farther apart than when we started.”
His espresso eyes watched me, not showing the anger that Bolton had constantly brooding within his stare.
“You aren’t the only one with intuition.”
He continued to watch me. Continued to study me with eyes brimming with wisdom and intelligence. “I didn’t come down here because I was worried you were malnourished. I came here because I wanted to see you, because I think about you pretty much every time we’re apart. Maybe I do move two steps forward and three steps back, but that’s my pace, and you agreed to it. Life isn’t a straight line like most people think. It’s a series of detours and one-way streets and dead ends.”