Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I knew he had to have seen the text on my phone, but he only quickly lifted it and locked it before he tossed it onto the nightstand. I clung to him, desperate for him to not let me go.
“Easy,” he coaxed, his voice soothing but firm. “Breathe.”
“I lost her three years ago today,” I choked out.
He didn’t question that I called my baby her. Instead, he just laid down on the bed, pulling me with him. “Baby, I need you to breathe,” he said I sobbed again. Breathe? I wasn’t sure I knew how to do that anymore. I was crying too hard, my sobs coming too fast.
He gently gripped my face in his hands, his dark, almost black eyes, locking on my own. “Breathe. Come on, baby.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “I’m here. Let me share the pain, beautiful. I need you to be my moon.”
I whimpered. “I can’t,” I told him. “Your moon is broken.”
He kissed me again, this time deepening it as he rolled me to my back. His hands slid under my shirt, pulling it over my head before he unhooked my bra, tossing it to the floor. His lips never left mine as he hooked his fingers into my leggings and my panties, shoving them down my legs. I kicked them off.
“Let me love you, beautiful,” Christian begged as he leaned up on his elbows to look down at me, his eyes meeting mine. “Let me take care of you—breathe life into you. I may not be able to completely heal you, beautiful, but I can damn well try. Let me.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He leaned up on his knees and unsnapped his jeans before he pulled them off. He was completely naked in front of me, and this perfect man was staring at me, running his eyes over my body as if I were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
Normally, Christian took his time with my body, learning every curve, every dip, every blemish, and every scar. This time, he leaned back over me, his lips claiming mine again as he eased into me.
I moaned, completely lost in him as he slowly rocked our bodies together. He never sped up or slowed down. It was a slow, steady tempo that I felt through every bit of my soul and my heart.
Christian was making love to me.
And I cried, hot tears sliding down my cheeks as I clutched him to me, allowing him to love me like he’d been trying to do from the very first day he laid his eyes on me.
Dr. Gresham and I walked in silence for a moment as I admired the garden. Fall was settling in for good, and the weather was turning cooler. All of the plants were beginning to lose their leaves.
Honestly, it was my favorite time of year. For me, there was some kind of comfort in the world when everything died to become new again.
“Let’s talk about your medications first,” Dr. Gresham began. “How are they working for you?” he asked.
“I don’t feel like crawling into a hole and dying,” I told him with a shrug. “I think my mind is beginning to adjust to them; it’s just taking them a moment.”
“Any voices?” he asked.
I shook my head at him. “No—no voices since that night. I think the two doses a day is working pretty well.”
“Good. Continue taking your medications as I’ve prescribed,” Dr. Gresham instructed me. I shivered when the wind blew and tightened my jacket around me, tucking my hands under my arms. I knew we could talk inside, but I tended to clam up when we were inside. I felt too closed in—too scrutinized.
So, Dr. Gresham and I always did our sessions together outside, no matter how cold it was. He was an amazing therapist and doctor. He wanted his patients to be as comfortable as possible during therapy sessions, no matter what he had to suffer through in the process.
“Let’s talk about Christian.”
I sighed. I knew this was going to come up, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to anyone about him outside of Meghan. Our relationship was still too fresh—too raw. I didn’t want to ruin that. And I felt like talking about the two of us out loud would destroy everything.
“What about him?” I grumbled as I paused to look at the rose bush Meghan had pointed out to me on my second round of therapy treatments. It was still blooming, its leaves still green.
It was always so different from all of the other plants out here. It bloomed late, and lost its leaves and petals late, too.
“He seems like a good man, and he understands mental health—has a passion for it that many therapists and doctors lack,” he commented. “I had the pleasure of him interning here the first semester of his Master’s program. When he graduates, he’s going to be an amazing addition to Axel’s office.”