Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
She hummed. “I like you, so, I’ll see what I can do. But we’ve had an emergency with one of the fabrics and are getting on a plane to India.”
Fucking India? “Gigi—”
“They’re calling my flight, I gotta go. Keep your phone nearby. I’ll call as soon as I convince him.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hop sat on the roof of his building watching the snow fall over the sleeping city. Somewhere down there, Rafe was probably drinking whiskey and toasting to his success. Somewhere down there, Roland was hearing about Hop’s appearance at Switch. Somewhere down there his mother slept.
He was glad he was up here instead of down there.
Up here, no one could see his tears. Up here, no one could hear him cry. Up here, no one would know how much pain he was in.
It was better that way.
Right when he was about to let go of everything holding him back and reach for his dream, it’d vanished in front of his eyes like a magic trick. It made him wonder if those feelings had been an illusion created by the act of submitting to the skilled hand of a seasoned Dom.
But his love for Rafe was real.
Even now, surrounded by the grays and blacks of cold metal, snow and the night sky, it beat in his core like an eternal drum sending light and color into Hop’s broken parts.
Every pounding pulse hurt like a fresh wound, but he embraced it like he had his nature. This, too, was who he was now, who he’d be for the rest of his life.
Rafe’s submissive.
Somehow he had to learn how to go on, knowing he’d never have the privilege of kneeling again. He’d never hear Rafe purr the words “That’s a good pet” into his ear. He’d never again know the empowerment that came from yielding to Rafe’s will.
He’d be alone.
Compared to losing Rafe, loneliness was nothing.
No one could comfort him. This was something he had to get through on his own. They didn’t know what it’d been like. They could never know the bliss of surrender. They would never live with the pleasure/pain of palm prints on their flesh or revel in their lover’s mark and the freedom of ownership. Not the way he did. Without it, he felt like he was adrift.
They’d never get it, this devotion, this certainty.
There was no explaining the unexplainable.
Just when he’d finally come to embrace his nature, he was forced to give up the one person who made him feel a little more alive and a lot less lost. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything, not one moment with Rafe, because he’d learned to breathe through the chaos and live in the fires of his own mind.
He looked into the darkness at the floating snowflakes and gathered the loneliness around him as if it were a blanket that could keep him warm. He’d embrace that too.
He’d take it all.
It was the only thing he could do when every breath was torn from his lungs like shards of glass and the pain of loss was almost more than he could stand. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the pain was another way he could serve Rafe. Only that made it bearable.
He shouted into the night, at his father and Malcolm and the world of the rich and powerful. His body shook with the force of his sorrow until he thought he might break apart and scatter in the wind like the snow.
And when he was all out of tears and his stomach ached from anguish and his throat was raw from mourning, he picked himself up.
He wiped his face and tightened his scarf and remembered that he was stronger because of his vulnerability. He was the boldest and bravest and he shone with colors no one else could see.
* * *
“Go home, Rafe,” Mark said.
“Can’t.” He’d gone to his apartment for an hour yesterday, but every surface had reminded him of Hop. So he’d come back to the office. He’d tried to sleep on the couch, but that had gone about as well as one might expect of a full-size man on a sample-size sofa. He’d given up on rest anyway because his mind wouldn’t stop racing.
There were far too many problems he needed to solve. It was better if he buried himself in work, at least he could do something about those issues.
“You aren’t doing anyone any favors by killing yourself with a million paper cuts.” Mark began shuffling the papers on Rafe’s desk, piling them to the side and clearing the uncharacteristic mess Rafe had created over the past few days.
“Don’t ruin my organization.” Rafe made a grab for his charts, and the whole bundle fluttered to the ground.
“What organization?”
“Damn it. I had them all arranged.” Rafe lowered to the floor to gather the sheets, sorting them as he did.