Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I could, whether I meant to or not, hurt him.
As someone who had constantly ended things a bit abruptly, maybe cruelly if you asked the men I dated, that was a new worry for me. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. The worst feeling in the world I could imagine at that point would be to reward his patience and tolerance and dedication to me by kicking dirt in it.
"Sweetheart," his voice broke into the swirling of my thoughts, his tone sounding a bit tired, but sweet. "I gotta get up," he told me, squeezing me tight and rolling me.
And just like that, I lost him. He slid out of me and moved away to the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet click.
I scurried up the bed and under the sheets, taking a few deep, steadying breaths, my chest burning it expanded so wide, before he appeared again and slid under the sheets, pulling me up onto his warm chest and holding me to him as he easily drifted off to sleep- spent from a long night.
I stayed there wide awake for a long time- mind racing but going nowhere at the same time.
He's what you have always needed, but wouldn't let yourself want, my heart reminded me.
But what the hell have you ever done to deserve what he has to offer, my brain piped in, ever the pessimist, always reminding me of my shortcomings, the potential for hurt and failure.
Thinking got my nowhere.
So then I went ahead and pushed the thoughts away.
To be dealt with tomorrow.
TEN
Bethany
Alertness came upon me like an unwanted visitor, making me intimately aware of every ache in my body- the pulsing, uncomfortable sensation in my sore muscles, reminding me that while I may have been able to distract myself from my detoxing the night before by keeping busy, that it could always come back to me in quiet moments.
Of which I was about to have many.
That was the thought that pulled me fully awake, dredging my brain of the final threads of blissful unconscious where I was blessed with dreams I never could remember- no matter what battle my subconscious mind might have been fighting.
My mouth was opening to let out a grumble when I felt a sensation that might have been the source of my wake-up call- fingers drifting lazily up and down my belly, stroking the sensitive undersides of my breasts, making me aware that my nipples were already hardened with desire and my sex was already slick and needy.
My gaze drifted down my body, finding Lazarus' wide hand, criss-crossed with scars from all his years using his fists as a means to make ends meet. Some were translucent and white, others red and vivid still. There were fresh cuts as well- scabbed over already from the fight the night before, likely to lead to more memories of pain on his skin.
I followed the length of his strong forearm, even in lazy exploration, the muscles corded and strong, over his chest, up his neck, then finally landing on his face.
"What time is it?"
"Nine," he supplied, the calloused palm of his hand closing around the soft swell of my breast.
"What time do you have to leave?" I asked, belly clenching at the very idea of him having to go.
Too soon, my heart said.
We've only known each other a few days, my brain reasoned.
Somehow, it felt so much longer. It felt like weeks, months, a lifetime.
"I have ten minutes," he said, making my heart sink. "And it takes five to drive there," he added, smirk devilish and my sex clenched hard in anticipation, knowing what he was insinuating.
It was hardly the span of a breath before his hands were at my hips, rolling me onto my stomach as he reached past me into the nightstand, quickly protecting us then moving to straddle both my legs, his hard cock pressing against my ass then toward my slit, stroking over it once and hitting the clit. Before that sensation could even spark through my system, he slammed inside me- hard, deep.
The sheets muffled my cry, something Lazarus was not fond of, judging by how his hand went into my hair and yanked until I arched upward.
Then he fucked me.
And it was hard and fast and rough and wild and before I could even enjoy the feeling of it building, my orgasm slammed through my hardly-awake system, making me cry out his name as he slammed deep, jerked upward hard enough to give me a delicious little pinch, then came with my name on his lips.
"Two fucking days," he grumbled, sliding out of me slowly, the bed shifting under his weight. I had thought he left me but then I felt his lips press a kiss into the left side of my behind, making a silly, girlish, goofy smile spread far enough to hurt my cheeks before I heard him move into the bathroom, shutting the door.