Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
He flicks through the cards, looking up at me with a raised brow. ‘Wanking pales by comparison after you’ve had the hand of the woman you love wrapped around your cock,’ he replies huskily, winking, expanding my grin.
‘Did you just say that?’
‘Yep.’ He holds the card up and I look, seeing the familiar pictures. ‘Now focus on this.’
‘After you’ve just said something so romantic?’
The full-blown Jack Joseph smile makes an appearance. ‘Concentrate,’ he orders.
Grudgingly I look at the card. ‘Easy,’ I claim, starting to clench and unclench my fist, over and over. ‘Next.’
‘This one.’ He holds up another card.
‘There.’ I bend my arm at the elbow with a stifled yawn. ‘Next.’
‘Annie, you need to extend your arm fully.’ He reaches over and pulls my arm straight. I hiss, feeling my stiff tendons stretch too much. ‘Yes, much better,’ he quips sarcastically. I scowl. He gives me a warning look. ‘Are you going to carry on arguing with me?’
I grumble my annoyance and start to bend my arm, slowly this time, stretching it back out as far as I can. ‘Happy?’
‘I’m just trying to help.’
‘Help me by taking me out,’ I plead, with no hope that he’ll listen. I feel like a prisoner, and aside from my mundane visits to the physiotherapist, Jack’s kept me safe inside wrapped in cotton wool. I’m slowly losing my mind. ‘Or at least let me in my studio so I can do some work.’
‘I was thinking of taking you somewhere, actually.’ He reaches up to my face and traces the line of a cut on my cheek. ‘But I don’t want you pushing yourself.’
‘I feel so much better.’ I need to get out and try to pick up something close to normal life instead of lying here with nothing to do other than relive that awful day. This isn’t healthy for Jack, either, being my nursemaid twenty-four-seven. He needs to get out too.
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he says, bending over my reclined body and coming in close to my face.
‘What?’ I’ll do anything.
‘I’ll take you out somewhere if you . . .’ His words fade, his eyes flicking past me fleetingly.
‘If I what?’
‘If you agree to move in with me.’
I recoil. I don’t mean to. We haven’t spoken about this. Or anything, for that matter. Since I was discharged from hospital, all of our efforts have gone into my recovery, and we’ve both seemed content doing that. I didn’t want to go over and over the dreadful events that put me in hospital and snatched away our unborn child. Jack’s been here at my flat the whole time, and I didn’t question it. Move in with him? Where? His home has been empty, since he’s here and his wife has been locked up. And I know he never wants to set foot in the place again. My flat is small.
‘Maybe we could buy somewhere,’ he goes on, sensing that I’m spinning off endless silent questions, and maybe knowing what they are. ‘I can’t sell my place just yet, until we know what’s happening with . . .’ He trails off again. There’s been no mention of her name and I doubt there ever will be. Jack’s filed for divorce and has left the complicated logistics of it in the hands of his solicitor. ‘I want somewhere with you. Away from here. Somewhere to call ours.’
‘Ours?’ I ask, liking the sound of that.
‘Just ours.’
‘Just ours,’ I parrot, struggling for what else to say. Somewhere that is just ours.
‘A fresh start. Me and you.’ He takes my wrist and fingers my bracelet, prompting me to look down at it. ‘If you want me.’
Another small piece of my shattered heart drops into place. I add my fingers to his and join him in playing with the precious charms. The dynamics of our relationship have been forced to change. Before, when we were only able to see each other in stolen moments of time, our clothes were usually ripped off within seconds, both of us ravenous with hunger for each other, our time together spent losing ourselves in our private bubble of happiness. Now, when we’re spending every second of the day with each other and I’m laid up, our time is spent . . . just being. Loving. Supporting. Healing each other as best we know how while being physically unable to take each other into the mind-numbing haze of pleasure that’s got us through so many months. But it’s still pleasurable. Through the grief I’ve been dealing with, being with Jack is still beyond fulfilling. And if anything, it’s only strengthened our love. He’s seen me at my weakest. I’ve seen him at his. Yet together we’re probably stronger than ever. I look up at him, letting my lips tip a little at the corners. ‘You were always mine, even before I knew it.’