The Image of You Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Drama, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
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Her love for me.

It was right there again.

Our history, our story, was reborn in her eyes, and the emotion of the moment hit us both.

“Ally.”

“You asked me to marry you.”

I wanted to reach out and grab her. Hold her hard so she couldn’t leave again. But I didn’t want to frighten her. Instead, I simply said, “Yes, I did.”

“You gave me a beautiful ring I couldn’t wear because it was getting sized.”

“That’s right.”

“I belong to you.”

I groaned at those words. “Yes, my Nightingale. You always have.”

A wild sob escaped her mouth, and I dragged her into my arms, enfolding myself around her. Lifting her, I settled her on my lap as she wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me tight. I pulled her as close as I could, allowing our emotions to escape. Her tiny frame shook with the force of her sobs, and I let her cry. My own tears soaked into her hair. I rocked us, running my hands up and down her back, her arms—anywhere I could touch to soothe her and let her know I was right here. She was exactly where she belonged, and I wasn’t letting her go again.

A shudder raced through her, and I realized how cold she still was. Her clothes were damp, her hair wet, and the blanket wasn’t helping her. I stood, striding to the bathroom, keeping her close to my chest. I sat her on the counter, gently tugging on her arms. Her grip tightened, and I lowered my mouth to her ear. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I need to warm you up. Let me do that, baby. Please.”

She loosened her grip, and I slid her hands down from my neck, kissing the knuckles as I laid them in her lap. Her shoulders were still shaking with her emotions, and I hurried to turn on the water, letting the air fill with steam. I lifted her face, carefully wiping away the tears. Her eyes were shut, long lashes fluttering across the tips of my fingers. Dark circles were bruised into her pale skin, and her face was drawn and exhausted. “Open your eyes, Ally,” I whispered.

Blue irises, all at once so lovely but tormented, met mine. Questions, pain, doubt, and fear filled them. I wanted all of that gone. Once she was dry and rested, we would talk more so I could erase the pain and fear. I was worried about the sudden onslaught of emotions and how she was coping, and if this affected her medically.

“Is there a doctor or someone we should call? Are you under medical supervision?”

“No, I only see the neurologist for checkups. There wasn’t much he could do but monitor me.”

“Maybe you should check in later, okay? You can tell him what has happened and get him to recommend someone here. I need to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ll call him later.”

She smiled, her bottom lip still quivering. I felt our connection reforming, already growing stronger. I pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth.

Standing her up, I drew the blanket from her shoulders and tugged off my sweatshirt and her wet clothes, leaving her in her underwear. Her skin was pebbled with goose bumps with a slight bluish tinge. Muttering a curse, I opened the door and tugged her inside, holding her under the warm spray. Long tremors rushed through her until, at last, she relaxed and, with a sigh, melted into my chest. Her hand fisted my T-shirt, her head resting over my heart. I let the water run over us until I knew she was no longer cold. I turned her to the water and helped wash her hair, remembering all the times this exact scene had played out right here. As I reached out to shut off the water, she covered my hand with hers. “My turn,” she said quietly.

“Ally…”

“Now, Adam.”

I smirked at her tone as I hunched low enough for her to reach. “Here we go with you being bossy again,” I teased her.

She pressed her lips into my skin. “Get used to it.”

I lifted my face, the water running over my skin nowhere near as warm as her touch. “Happily.”

After the shower, I dried her off and slipped a shirt over her head. “My favorite,” she whispered, rubbing the thin cotton of my shirt between her fingers. I grinned as her wet, lacy brassiere hit the floor. Another patented Ally move and I knew her underwear would follow, so I handed her a pair of my boxers. “It’s been waiting for you,” I told her, running my hand over her shoulder and smoothing the fabric. “Just like I have.”

“Adam—”

I shook my head. “Later. I want you to rest.” I stroked her temple. “How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“Do you need some pain meds?”

“I only need you.”

“You have me.”

I tucked her into our bed and pulled on a fresh T-shirt and boxers before slipping in beside her. Her entire body loosened as I drew her close and felt the warmth settle inside me that could only be from her touch. I breathed in deep lungfuls of her scent, and I calmed—finally feeling some semblance of peace. Her hands clutched my shirt, fisted even in sleep, as if she was afraid I would slip away. My arms held her equally as tight, the same fear etched in my head. I couldn’t close my eyes, too worried this was all a very real dream and I would wake up, once again alone and empty.


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