Just One More Touch Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
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Nancy closes the door behind her and leaves the two of us alone, with Hally left standing awkwardly and staring at the closed door.

“She thinks we’re going to fuck,” I tell her.

That gets her eyes on me with her mouth opened in disbelief. “She knows I’m not like that,” Hally answers and I never would have thought those words could make me so hard.

“Not like what?” I ask her, although I already know. Mark provided me with a list of her former boy toys. It’s a short list and I’m grateful for that. More importantly, she’s currently single and “too busy working her ass off” to date.

Which is just perfect for me.

Hally waves off my question, retaking her seat and looking at me and then the closed door before asking, “Are we okay?”

Her face is etched with genuine concern. I hate it.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” I tell her, crossing my arms and leaning back. She’s wounded and scared and I’d bet anything she’d fall into my arms if I let her. And I want her so badly, but maybe I shouldn’t. A small voice whispers to let her be. That I don’t have to do this.

But I ignore that bastard voice and clear my throat to ask her, “Do you want to practice some lines together?”

She sees right through me, although she does glance at the stack of papers on her vanity. Her script. It’s fresh and neat. Obviously an updated version since her role has changed.

“It must be difficult changing roles during filming,” I say as if I’m genuinely interested in helping her.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” she says and that look comes back to her eyes. She’s waiting for me to offer more. Hopeful for it, even if she’s scared.

“We don’t need to practice lines then,” I tell her, holding her gaze and watching it heat.

“You want to … talk?” she asks.

“Not really,” I answer her honestly and she immediately looks away, brushing her hair from her face. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been too long to just assume she’d come back to me so easily. “We could just catch up,” I offer her, lightening the intensity of what I want from her.

“What about-” she starts to ask with a pained look. “I need to talk about what happened,” she says with tears in her eyes.

“It’s over with, Hally,” I shake my head, wanting that night to go back to not existing. Just pretend. It’s what I had to do for so long. She can too. It makes living that much easier.

I silence her and ask her, “Can we just pretend?” I feel like an asshole. Like a coward. Like I don’t fucking deserve my freedom. “Just forget it happened,” I tell her and pray she’ll play along. I can’t make it right; there’s no way to make it better. I wish I could for her. I’d give anything to go back and never tell her to go home in the first place. Then she wouldn’t have done the one thing she knew would piss me off. She wouldn’t have put herself in danger.

If that night had never happened, if so many little things had just gone differently, our paths would have been so divergent from where we are now. I don’t think I ever would have left her.

She searches my eyes for something, I don’t know what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it spurs her to rise up on her tiptoes and plant a small kiss on my lips. Her long lashes flutter open and she says, “I can.” Then she chews on her bottom lip and her fingers comb through her hair as she looks away and I’m not so sure she’s being honest. But what choice do I have?

“I just don’t know if this is best, Nathan,” she tells me the truth and it guts me. “I don’t know if I can be around you and not …” she doesn’t finish, but I know exactly what she means. It’s a constant reminder just being this close to her.

I shrug as if it doesn’t shatter everything in me and say, “Just to talk, Hally.” I almost don’t say anything more, but I know she just needs a small push. “I miss you,” I tell her and it’s only then that I realize how much truth there is in those words.

“I miss you, too,” she breathes the words so easily like they were waiting on the tip of her tongue to be confessed. “Okay,” she says but then she chews the inside of her cheek nervously.

“Okay, what?” I ask her as someone knocks on her door. My blood fills with anxiety. I just need her to say yes.

“Okay to the talk,” she answers shyly.

And that’s all I need to rise from my chair and get out of her room before I keep pushing her until I’m taking too much. It’s been too long and the last thing I want to do is make things worse for us. “Monday then,” I tell her without looking back at her. Without touching her or even saying goodbye.


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