Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“What did you decide on?” he asks.
“I didn’t get to choose my degree, but I did enjoy it. I’d like to think that if the choice was my own, I would have wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps.”
“And now?” he asks, moving my hair back over my shoulder.
“I never want to be anything like him.”
“I’m an attorney,” he reminds me. “I’m nothing like that piece of shit.” He has no remorse for calling my sperm donor a piece of shit, as he shouldn’t.
“You’re the exception to every rule, Deacon.” I kiss his jaw, the scruff of his beard tickling my face. I can’t help but wiggle in his lap when the memories surface of what it feels like to have that beard between my thighs.
“You good?” He smirks.
I don’t know how, but he knows exactly what I was thinking about. “Just fine,” I reply with a smile. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, I might start looking for a paralegal job or something. I’m qualified, and I think I would enjoy it. I never wanted anything to do with that field, fearing all lawyers were like my dad and Robert, but you’ve proven that theory wrong.”
“We’re not all like them, but there are plenty more assholes that I’m sure you will encounter like them no matter what field you work in.”
“I agree.” I relax into him. “Tonight helped me make my decision. For the last two years, all I’ve done is work and save and battle my past. I never want to go back there, and once I was settled in my jobs, I got comfortable and never tried for more.” I pause, thinking about how far to take this, and decide to give him my words that he’s always asking for. “Being with you makes me want that normal life. Having dinner with you after a long day. Being able to go out with our friends on Friday or Saturday nights. I’d love to be able to go to my aunt Carol's Sunday dinners. It’s open, and whoever can make it that week shows up. I’ve never been. It’s always at five that evening, and well, I’m at work by then.”
“You do have a shitty schedule,” Deacon agrees.
“Right?” I laugh. “You’ve never given me a hard time about it. Why?”
“Because as bad as I hate you working there, as much as I hate the hours, I refuse to be another man in your life that takes your choice away. Unless it’s the choice of me paying for dinner.” He winks.
“You hate me working at the Tavern?”
“Yes. I hate that you’re there late at night, driving home late, coming home to an empty house late. Any drunk fool could follow you. I hate that men hit on you every fucking night that you’re there.”
“I wish you would have said something.”
“It’s your decision, Ramsey. I hate that too. I’ve had to bite my tongue many times, wanting to tell you to just ditch the job at the Tavern. You could move in with me, and I could take care of you.” I open my mouth to argue, but he puts his hand over my mouth to stop me. “However, I know that’s not what you want. I know you don’t want to be dependent on someone else ever again. That’s something else I’m working on. One of these days, you’re going to trust that I will always stand beside you, behind you, and in front of you when you’ll let me.”
“All three, huh?” I ask, fighting back the tears. I don’t know what I did to have this man come into my life, but I will forever be grateful.
“Beside you because I want to be your partner in life.” He kisses my left cheek. “Behind you because you don’t need me to speak for you. You need my support, and you will always have it.” He kisses my right cheek. “In front of you because I want to protect you. I know you don’t need it, but I want to do it all the same.” He kisses my lips softly.
I move to straddle his hips so that we’re facing each other. I place my hands on either side of his face and stare into his golden eyes. I’ve been fighting my tears, but I lose as one slides over my cheek. I open my mouth to speak but close my mouth just as fast.
“Never with me, Ramsey. Give me your words, baby.”
It’s time. No matter if he feels the same or not, my heart is screaming for me to tell him. “I love you.” My voice is strong. “You are everything I ever dreamed of in a partner, in a man, and I-I love you so much, Deacon,” I say. My heart is racing, and my hands are clammy as they rest against his cheeks.