Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Nothing.
I inch forward, stepping lightly, not wanting to make any more noise.
I reach the open door. It’s only open halfway, so I can’t see fully into the room.
I can only see the open window.
An agonized moan comes from inside the room.
Fork poised and ready, lifting my foot, I carefully push the door open wider, using my big toe.
I see the end of the bed.
I step inside the room, the bed coming into view. And I see River in bed, his body strained and twisted, trapped deep inside of a nightmare.
I almost sigh in relief that he’s not being murdered or beaten to death. Or worse.
Is there worse?
Yes, there is. I’ve lived it.
His legs kick restlessly at the sheet covering his lower half. Short gasps of breath hiss out from between his clenched teeth.
It feels wrong that I’m here. Witnessing this.
But, now that I’m here, I can’t just leave him alone. Even if I did technically break into his house.
That he has nightmares doesn’t surprise me. I saw the haunted look in his eyes that day.
I have nightmares sometimes, too.
I dream that Neil finds me. Takes me home. Hurts the baby …
I don’t know what haunts River’s dreams, but I know I can’t leave him like this.
Lowering the fork, I step closer to the bed, standing at the end of it.
“River,” I firmly say his name. “You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.”
He doesn’t respond.
“River.” I reach out and touch his sheet-covered foot.
Big mistake.
His eyes flick open, and he jolts out of bed.
His sudden movement startles me, and I step backward, somehow tripping over my own feet and landing on my ass.
And I quickly learn another thing about River.
He sleeps naked.
Carrie
“What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Penis—River! Fudging heck!” I quickly clamber to my feet. “Sorry. I-I … I heard you yelling from outside. The door was unlocked—”
“And you thought that was an invitation to come straight on in?”
“I-I … thought you were being murdered or something. You were yelling. I was worried. I wanted to help.”
I’m flustered. And the color of a tomato.
He’s still naked. And just standing there.
Naked.
He hasn’t seemed to register that he is naked. Or that his penis is totally erect right now.
That, or he doesn’t care.
But I’m registering it.
And I’m trying to look away. I swear, I am.
But it’s hard.
His penis. And my ability to look away.
Before now, I’d seen two men naked in my whole life.
But never one who looks like River does.
Compared to River, Neil would look pudgy. And Neil wasn’t fat by any means of the word.
But River is ripped. Abs. And taut muscles covering his body and arms and legs. He’s huge. Everywhere.
I don’t have a lot of experience with penises. I’d only seen one other before Neil, and that was when I was sixteen and lost my virginity to a sixteen-year-old guy from school, who had no clue what he was doing. Except for the fact that he’d bet his friends he could get me to sleep with him. Clearly, he won that bet. Neil always hated the fact that I’d slept with someone before him. It was a reason he would use to start an argument when he had no other.
Neil’s penis was about the same size as the first ass of a guy that I slept with, so I wasn’t sure if they were normal-sized or big or what.
Compared to River’s, they were definitely average-sized.
Maybe undersized.
Why am I still thinking about penises?
Because you’re standing, staring at one.
I flick my eyes up to River’s face. For once, he doesn’t look angry.
His brows are lifted. A smug expression on his face.
He knows I’ve been looking at his penis.
Of course he knows. I was staring straight at it for ages.
When I meet his eyes, they are a stark contrast to the amusement on his face. They’re burning with something I’m not willing to name right now.
My stomach dips.
I swallow roughly.
“What’s that?” He lifts his chin in the direction of the gardening fork that’s on the floor from when I fell on my ass.
“Oh.” I pick it up. “It’s my gardening fork.”
“Well, that explains why it’s on my floor.”
“I dropped it when you startled me, and I fell.”
“I startled you?” One of those humorless laughs of his. “Riiight.” He drags the word out. He lifts his tattooed arms from his sides and folds them over his chest.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
I force my eyes to stay on his face. I fidget on my feet. “I brought it with me. As a weapon. You know, in case I needed one.”
His eyes go to the fork in my hand and then back up to my face. “What were you going to do, dig me to death?”
“Not you. Whoever was hurting you. And very funny.” I roll my eyes.
“No, it’s fucking not. You’re pregnant, and you came in here, not knowing what you were walking into, with a shitty gardening fork as a weapon.”