Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He digs into his bag and retrieves a pink harness and helmet.
“How did you know my favorite color?” I ask with a wink as I take the helmet from him.
He laughs. “I used to climb with Steph. Who knew I would be able to make use of these with a cute power bottom?”
He helps me strap the helmet on and then guides me into the harness, pulling two loops up my thighs. “Oh my, you can grab a little higher if you want,” I say.
He smiles and shakes his head. As soon as he finishes securing me in, he puts on his own. We spend time going over tying the knot into the belay that attaches to the harness before I realize, “Wait, wait. You’re a fucking giant. Am I supposed to save you when you fall?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to create another anchor for you. And I’m not getting up there until you know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not looking for a quick way to die today. Now, I have to teach you some commands.”
“I’m very excited to learn any commands and safe words you might have for me.”
A familiar look flashes across his face. For as little as I’ve talked to him, I know that look. There’s hunger in his eyes. It’s like at any moment, he’s going to come at me, lift me off the ground, throw me up against the rock, and kiss me. Make me feel that scruff against my face and his hot breath rushing across my skin as he forces my pants down so he can take me.
“Well, we’ll start with commands,” he says, his voice low, “and we’ll get to safe words later. How’s that?”
“Safe words later? Already changing your tune. I told you I was going to break you, Daddy.”
“And I told you I was going to be the one doing all the breaking.”
Now, I’m the one who’s smiling…and getting a bit of a chubby.
9
Jackson
The sun stings my eyes and the surface of the rock is hot to the touch, so I stand from where I’d been sitting and hold my hand over my eyes to shield them as I look at Derek. He’s standing closer to the edge and looking out. His back is straight, his head high, before he shakes it, in what is obviously awe, and then says, “Holy shit, Jackson. This is incredible. I can’t believe I climbed up here.”
He turns to look at me. I’m afraid his cheeks might crack—he’s smiling so big. It’s definitely not the first smile I’ve seen from Derek but there’s a unique glow to it like it comes from a different place inside of him. One I haven’t seen before. It’s filled with pride, but not the bravado he usually has. Like he’s really proud of something he did, and it warms something deep inside of me.
There’s something about him that has already dug its claws into me. On the surface, we couldn’t be more different—my larger frame, his smaller one. The eleven-year age difference that looks like more because he has a youthful look to him and I’m a little gray already and the years have worn on me a bit more. Despite all that, we seem to click.
I keep watching him and his smile grows even more. “My hands are shaking.” He holds up his left arm. Chuckling, I walk over and grab it.
“Mine did that at first too. There’s a sort of rush to it.”
“There is. Oh my God. I was good, wasn’t I? I took to that shit right away. I might have shown you up a little.”
His playful confidence doesn’t surprise me. I’d spent a great deal of time going over everything I needed to before we started to climb, but he’s right. He had taken to it. And he enjoyed it. “You did well.” The energy is practically radiating off him.
“I’m kind of hard.”
“Yes, but that’s nothing new for you, right?” I realize then I’m still holding on to his hand. I let go and nod my head. “Come on, you feisty little hurricane.” We walk over to a large rock that shades part of the ground and sit before I pull two bottles of water from my bag and hand him one.
“Oh, you have a nickname for me? It’s cute. I like it.”
He’s cute, but I don’t tell him that. “Drink. You need to keep hydrated.”
“Oh, so bossy. Yes, Daddy.”
“Makes sense I have a name for you since you have one for me, right?” It’s crazy what hearing him call me that does to me…and how quickly I’ve adjusted to it.
“You’re all sweaty and dirty.” He takes a swipe at my forehead instead of responding to what I said.
“You are too. Now drink.” We lean against the rock and both take a few swallows of our water. Our conversation from my Jeep is still a quiet whisper in my brain. It surprises me that I told him about Lydia, about that ache so deep in my gut every time we lose someone. It’s easier not to talk about it. Your brain tries to tell you to move on. It’s safer that way, but how can you let yourself stop caring?