Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
“You’re okay?” he demands.
“Um, yes?” I giggle nervously again. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I force myself to meet his gaze straight on, but it takes all my confidence to do so because just moments ago I was coming hard to filthy visuals of him. So it’s a little unsettling to stand before the man himself now, pretending I hadn’t just been doing what I was doing, with orgasm still humming through my body.
“I thought I heard you cry out in pain,” Ryder growls with a frown on that handsome face, and I realize it really is concern that I’m sensing because it’s etched all over his face. “Is it the baby?” he adds. Oh shit. He obviously heard my grunts but didn’t attribute them to sex. He thought they were pregnancy-related grunts of agony!
The realization that Ryder actually cares about me flushes me hotter than the orgasm just did. Yet I’m also engulfed with shame all over again. Oh god, this situation is so off the rails, and I need to leave this house asap. Meanwhile, I try to speak coherently.
“I’m not in pain,” I say in a quiet tone. “Don’t worry, the baby is fine.” But he still stares at me, as if he’s not sure he should believe me.
“Here,” I say with a sunny smile. “Feel.” Then, on impulse, I take his hand and place it on the softness of my belly. There’s no movement yet because my pregnancy is too early for that, but it seems like the right thing to do. Meanwhile, I can feel Ryder’s entire body tense up. “See?” I ask encouragingly. “Nothing wrong here.”
Ryder’s still for a moment, letting his palm rest gently on my burgeoning stomach, and something flickers in that blue gaze. The moment is intensely intimate, but then he nods curtly, and pulls his hand back before clearing his throat.
“Good, I’m glad things are fine. But I have a few meetings to get to now,” he growls. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Then without another word, the big man stalks to the front door and leaves, shutting the slab behind him with a click.
For a few moments, I allow myself to stand in the cool quiet of the hallway, listening to the silence as I wait for my heart to slow down. That was weird, to put things mildly. Ryder goes hot and cold so fast, and it genuinely makes my head spin. On the one hand, he obviously cares about me, but on the other, sometimes he’s as frigid as ice. I just don’t get it.
And what meetings does he have on a Saturday? Maybe he’s a workaholic and never takes any time off, although that hasn’t been the case this past week at least. Ryder goes out to work in the mornings, but then he comes home around dinner time every evening, and we’ve settled into a routine together. He’s silent, yes, and it’s true that I haven’t been able to get any closer to him, apart from those rare moments where he seems to let his guard down for a split second. But we do sort of “hang out” in the evenings. He hovers in the background as I cook, and it’s comfortable. We don’t say much, but he’ll scroll through his phone or sometimes flick through a magazine. Then, we’ll eat dinner together and watch a bit of TV before heading to bed for lights out.
So what was that encounter about? I have no idea and let out another defeated sigh. I really need to get out of Ryder’s hair, sooner rather than later, and I’m not doing myself any favors by putting off the inevitable. With another huge sigh, I retreat to the beautiful back garden and stroll through the arched walkway of peach blossoms, before sitting by the fountain with my phone.
What was the name of that shelter that I was supposed to call? I know I should look for a place to live, but my heart’s not in it. I’m happy here, even if Ryder is distant and getting more inscrutable with each and every day. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome either. As a result, I turn my attention to the homeless shelter again and actually press call this time. No one answers, surprise surprise, so instead, I put together a list of low-income housing that I might be eligible for. Then, there are a couple more calls to make, and by then, it’s late afternoon and the long rays of the afternoon sun are making me sleepy.
With heavy feet, I reenter the cottage and curl up on the pull-out sofa with a book. I should get dinner started, but it’s a little early yet, and drowsiness is beginning to overtake my form. Just a few minutes for a catnap, I promise myself. Then, you’ll get up.