Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
The cool breeze nips my back against the mingled sweat and water from the pool, but our skin feels molten where it touches.
I’ve officially left the building—hell, the whole fucking planet—until I feel an angel’s touch slowly stroking my face as I try to catch my breath.
“Hey.” She runs her fingers across my face. “Hey, Patton?”
I open my eyes, falling into the hazel wonder of her gaze underneath me.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
“No. Did you know you’re the sexiest work of art to ever exist?” I grind out.
Do you have any fucking idea how impossible it’ll be to let you go? Thank God I still have enough wits to not ask her that.
The smile that curves her mouth ignites her eyes to gold.
If I had a superpower, I’d hit pause. I’d freeze time so I never had to stop seeing her smile like this.
“It’s been a pretty amazing weekend. I’ll give you that,” she says.
Reluctantly, I roll off her and hit the stone patio under us with a grunt. I lie there for a solid minute before I have the bones to grab a towel and help her clean up.
“You know what?” I tell her as we head back inside and flop down on the bed together. She snuggles right up to me like she was made to fit in the curve of my body. “There’s no rule that says this has to stop once we climb on the jet home. Nothing besides the stupid little handshake agreement we made up.”
“What do you mean?” She stares at me intently. “Patton Rory, are you second-guessing?”
“What do you think, Salem? I’m not second-guessing shit. I’ve made a decision. This thing we’re doing now that’s better than any high. The kissing, the sex, the pretend dating—it doesn’t have to end. I don’t want to put a pin in it. Yeah, I know you’ve got Arlo to think about and you’ll be happy to get home, but I just—”
“It doesn’t have to end,” she echoes roughly.
It’s my turn to stare while her eyes glow like gold discs.
“If you’re cool with this evolving… so am I. But there’s something you should really know first.” She twists around to face me, suddenly twisting the covers around herself protectively, her eyes too wide and glistening.
All the peace and contentment that was there seconds ago has shattered. I don’t understand.
“What is it, Lady Bug? What’s wrong?”
“Arlo, that’s what.” She hesitates, clearing her throat. “He’s—he’s your son. Arlo’s your son, Patton.”
What. The. Fuck.
My heart damn near rips through my chest like an alien monster as she twists around to hide her face.
There’s no way. It doesn’t add up.
Salem Hopper, one-night stand from six years ago. And Arlo, he’s her five-year-old kid with lightning blue eyes and dark hair and an endless appetite for shit-stirring.
Arlo, he’s—
Oh, fuck.
He’s mine.
17
DOUBLE OR NOTHING (SALEM)
Have you ever fallen down the stairs?
You know that awful moment when you’re tripping.
Your foot skids off the edge or hits something that shouldn’t be there, off by mere inches, destroying your balance.
You feel the ground shift and reach out desperately for something to grab on to.
You only have a split second before your vision starts spinning—just long enough to pray it’s a short way down or for something soft to break your fall.
I’m falling in that killing slow motion right now, even though I’m perfectly still, turned to stone after I made myself look at him again.
Patton might be having a heart attack. Mouth open, eyes marbles, his healthy color turning ash-white like he’s lost ten pints of blood.
Holy hell, this was stupid.
Holy shit, I never should’ve told him.
I never meant for it to come out like this—this sudden mess that feels like an ugly furball of guilt I just coughed up.
Before I dropped the atomic bomb, I never made up my mind about how to tell him at all, and now I’ve gone and done it.
I’ve given him the truth and there’s no taking it back.
God help me.
Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and enjoy one more evening in paradise?
He rolls off the bed and stumbles back outside, toward the pool. I think he needs oxygen, and I can’t blame him.
I follow timidly, half-afraid he’ll walk right into the water and drown.
I shouldn’t have let this long weekend go to my head.
Shouldn’t have let him steal my heart a second time.
Shouldn’t have flipping told him.
I’m breathless as he stops and whirls around to face me before he reaches the pool. In the darkness, I can’t make out his features beyond the fact that he’s pale, his eyes too dark.
“Arlo,” he says hoarsely. “My son? My son?”
There’s nothing good in his tone, just horror, heartbreak, fear.
You shouldn’t have told him you stupid, stupid idiot!
“Patton… why don’t you sit down?” I force out, taking his arm and trying to pull him to the lounger.