Texting The Tattooist Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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Leaning back, I stare up at the exposed rafters, feeling like they represent a whole lot about where I am.

Exposed, my deepest vulnerabilities showing… and Killian’s, considering all he shared about his family.

My phone buzzes.

I never told you how I felt about you being a virgin.

I swallow, nerves threatening to choke me. I was too concerned with getting here… and about Speeder, the poor dog, and all the things Emil could’ve done to him.

Speeder’s a smart dog. He started sprinting right back to my apartment the second he was free, meaning Killian spotted him on the sidewalk as he was driving in the general direction Emil had fled.

But it could’ve been much worse.

So how do you feel? I text, my hands shaking.

It makes me want you more, he replies, almost instantly.

I stifle a gasp, not wanting to wake Mom. She took a pill when we got here, ignoring the look I gave her.

She lies on her side, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as though her dreams are tormenting her.

How? I text.

There’s a long pause. I wonder if he’s typing messages and then deleting them, wondering about the best thing to say.

I won’t lie. I was turned on like crazy when you told me you’d never had an orgasm before… and then when you told me you’d never kissed anybody. Knowing no other man will ever get to touch you makes me even crazier.

I read his message several times, over and over, trying to convince myself I’m not hallucinating. The letters aren’t leaping around on the phone screen.

They’re settled, real.

Will I ever get to touch you….

That’s what the message says, implying he wants me for more than a few minutes or hours of pleasure.

I mean, surely I should’ve known that already, considering that I’m here and that he bothered to come after me to save me….

I’m sorry I left you before, he texts, as though anxious at my lack of a reply.

It’s weird to think of Killian as anxious, but an instinct tells me I’m right. I’m starting to realize that’s what I need to do most of all, trust my instincts, especially when reality is screaming at me with clear signals.

You had to go after Speeder. Don’t apologize. I was safe because of you.

But you’d just had a fall, he replies. I keep replaying the moment in my mind. What if you had a concussion? What if you weren’t fit to drive, or something happened to you?

Killian, relax. I’m here, and I’m safe. Nothing happened to me.

And nothing will, he replies. I’ll protect you. So what do you think about what I said?

About no other man ever getting to touch me?

Yeah.

I pace over to the window, seriously considering his question. There’s so much Dad would say about this, injecting fear into the revelation, explaining that I can’t trust Killian, that I’d be crazy to allow myself to sink so willingly into fantasies of my desires being true.

But I have to be honest.

I’ve been scared of the world for a long time. I’ve been terrified of what might happen, people hurting me, and the world itself hurting me. But it wasn’t until I met you that I felt at peace. When you held me, I felt it more than at any point in my life. It was like a drug, not that I’ve ever done any… but it was like what I imagine a drug brings.

I pause, reading over the message, wondering if I’m going too far and if there’s too much blunt honesty in the words.

But if I can’t be honest with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, who can I be honest with?

The truth is, Killian, I want your words to mean what I hope they do. I want them to mean that, even if we’re technically strangers, you’re looking for something long-term with me.

The phrase long-term feels weak, considering the magnitude of what I want.

Long-term and forever are two different things.

But I can’t bring myself to say forever. There’s still a small voice in my head saying I could be pushing too far.

I want that more than anything, he replies.

I let out a trembling breath as I open the door to the balcony, walking past the potted plants and the greenery, my body trembling as the future clashes with the present.

As the imagined becomes real.

I wanted it the second I saw you. I should tell you this in person – and I will, when I see you… but I wanted you the second I saw that photo on the freelancing website. It was physical, sure, but it wasn’t just physical. There was this feeling, something I find difficult to explain. It was calling to me… It makes me think of the green light in The Great Gatsby. I know you’ve probably got a beautiful look of shock on your face right now that a brute like me reads classic novels.


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