Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
His lips gentled on mine, just small kisses across my mouth before he slowly pulled back, his thumbs brushing across the apples of my cheeks. My eyes opened slowly, feeling weighted with want, desire so deep I swore it seeped into my marrow. His deep green eyes were endless pools of promises I wanted him to follow through on.
And that was the exact reason he couldn't.
"Uh oh," he said, his head shaking slightly.
"What?" I asked, annoyed at the breathlessness of my voice. Why couldn't I sound unaffected? Why couldn't I just fake it?
"Got under those walls there today, honey. I see them building back up."
"No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "No this was just a little... fast," I half-lied. It didn't feel too fast. In fact, my body was urging me to strip naked and let him sink inside. Fact of the matter was, Johnnie was dangerous. It had nothing to do with his job or his past. It did, however, have everything to do with the fact that in just one day he had managed to do something that other men worked weeks or months for and never succeeded- he started to matter. And that was dangerous. I didn't feel often, but when I did, I felt deep. I couldn't feel deeply about Johnnie because he was a runaway train. He was leaving this town and me as fast as his wheels could turn. I couldn't just spend a night with him and watch him leave like nothing happened.
I knew me and I knew from just the barest taste I got of him, that I would want more. I would want it all. And I couldn't have that. So I needed to stop things before they went any further.
"Alright," he said, watching my face as if he was picking up on something. But then his hands dropped from my face and he moved away. The air conditioned air hit me full force, making my skin feel prickly and I rubbed my hands up my arms. Johnnie moved back toward the kitchen, making short work of unwrapping the banana bread (mostly because he clawed at it like a bear). He brought a slice up to his mouth and pushed half of it inside, closing his eyes on a quiet groan. "And she can bake," he said, seemingly to himself.
There was a cold, spiraling feeling in my stomach watching him. I couldn't place it at first, seeing him move around and grab a glass out of a cabinet and pouring himself some sweet tea. He took a long gulp, making a strange growling noise. "Haven't had this in so long," he said, giving me an appreciative little smile. And then I got it. I recognized something in him I had, so far, been wholly incapable of- openness. There wasn't an inch of Johnnie that was guarded, that he protected or kept under wraps. He wore everything on his sleeve- from his attraction to me to his enjoyment of the food I gave him. There was just... so much honesty in everything he did.
Meanwhile, it felt like everything about me was a secret wrapped in a lie.
He was everything good to all my bad.
He was so much better than me.
"Angel," he broke in and I hadn't even noticed him watching me, I had been so absorbed in my own thoughts. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I said, forcing a smile. Another lie to hide a secret. One of his brows raised like he could see right through me and I scrambled for something to say. "I was just... thinking about work. I have a meeting tonight. It's the first once since your dad..." I trailed off, taking a breath. "It's not going to be easy."
Johnnie looked down at his feet for a second, shaking his head, still not believing me. When his gaze found mine, I saw determination there. "I'm gonna figure you out, darlin'. You might want to rip my cock off for it, but I'm still gonna do it."
"There's nothing to figure out," I said, my feet finally remembering how they worked and I moved away from the door so I could open it. "Enjoy your banana bread," I mumbled, closing the door and rushing back to my apartment.
I slumped against the inside of my own door, my hand moving up to touch my kiss-sensitive lips. I stayed that way for a long time, rolling the memory of his mouth over and over in my head despite knowing all it was doing was adding more kindling to the fire and I was pretty sure my panties were seconds away from bursting into flames as it was. I forced myself to move away from the door, to make myself something to eat, to get dressed into something more appropriate for the meeting: dark wash capri jeans and a flouncy white shirt.
I'm more than a little ashamed to admit that I actually looked out my peephole before I stepped out into the hallway, terrified that I might run into him and, I dunno, just rip my clothes off and beg him to take me or something.
--
The meeting went about as I had expected. Meaning, it was depressing as all heck. Everyone sat around and shared their stories about Ben Allen. Some were stories about the crazy things he used to get himself into when he was drinking; many were about the good he had done since he got clean. Then there were the head shakes, gazes falling to the floor as people thought how unfair it was that he finally, finally got his life together only to have it cut short by something as indiscriminating as a heart attack. The tone went downhill from there, everyone wondering how long they would have to make amends, to repair the damage their addiction had caused.
I tried to keep things upbeat, focusing on how Ben had turned his life around, how they all had turned things around, about how two years clean and sober was better than another twenty too messed up to see how their actions were affecting everyone around them. But the fact of the matter was, the black feeling of the group had started to seep into my skin as well, leaving me feeling bleak and sad as I made my way to my car and started back toward my apartment.