Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“Georgia—” He came toward me, reaching.
“Go!” The demand was a guttural plea that scraped my throat raw.
His hand fell away, and his eyes slid shut.
One heartbeat passed. Then two. By the time he opened his eyes, a full dozen had passed, just enough to let me know this moment wouldn’t kill me. That I’d keep breathing despite the pain.
He saw it, too, nodding slowly as our gazes locked. “Okay. I’ll go. But you can’t stop me from loving you. Yes, I fucked up, but everything I said to you is the truth.”
“Semantics,” I whispered, searching deep for the ice I’d grown in my veins during my marriage, but Noah had taken it all, thawed every last shard and left me defenseless.
He flinched. A breath later, he backed away slowly, rounding the opposite side of the desk and opening one of the drawers. His movements were jerky as he put one binder-clipped packet of paper on the left of the manuscript, and the other on the right.
The endings had been in the desk the whole time. I’d never even thought to look or question him.
He picked up his laptop and walked around the desk, pausing at the chairs to look my way. He had no right to the agony in his eyes, not when he’d lied his way into my heart.
“They’re both there. Just let me know which ending you pick. I’ll honor your choice.”
I hugged myself a little tighter, begging the cracks in my soul to hold it together for one more moment. I could break when he was gone, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble.
“Some things you have to fight for, Georgia. You can’t just walk away and leave it unfinished when it gets too complicated. If I could fly off and fight the Nazis to win your love, I would. But all I’ve got to battle with are your demons, and they’re kicking my ass. Keep that in mind while you’re reading those endings, the good and the…poignant. The epic, rare love story in this room isn’t Scarlett and Jameson. It’s you and me.”
One long, yearning look later, he was gone.
I shattered.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
May 1942
Ipswich, England
Scarlett clung to Jameson, her nails raking down his back as he moved within her with sure, deep strokes. There was nothing in the world that compared to the feel of his weight on top of her in these moments where there was no war, no danger, no looming deadline for their separation. In this bed, there were only the two of them, communicating with their bodies when words failed.
She moaned at the indescribable pleasure that coiled tight within her belly, and he kissed her deep, swallowing the sound. They’d nearly perfected the art of quiet sex in the past few months.
“I can never get enough of you,” he whispered against her mouth.
She whimpered in reply and arched her hips harder against his, hooking one ankle around the small of his back and urging him on. Close. She was so close.
He gripped her thigh and raised her knee toward her chest, taking her deeper, then ground his hips in maddening circles with every thrust, keeping her on that tight edge of pleasure, hovering without falling.
“Jameson,” she begged, burying her hands in his hair.
“Say it,” he demanded with a grin and another stroke.
“I love you.” She lifted her head and brought her lips to his. “My heart, my soul, my body—it’s all yours.” It was always the love you that shook his control, and this time was no exception.
“I love you,” he whispered, slipping his hand between them and using his fingers to push her over the edge. Her thighs locked, her muscles trembled, and she heard him whisper, “Scarlett, my Scarlett,” as the orgasm swept over her in waves.
When she screamed, he covered her mouth with his, and a few strokes later, he joined her, tensing above her as he found his release.
They were a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and smiles as he rolled them to the side.
“I never want to leave this bed,” he said as he lifted a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
“Excellent plan,” she agreed, running her fingertips down his chiseled chest. “Do you think it will always be like this?”
He palmed her backside. “An insatiable need to get each other naked?”
“Something like that.” She grinned.
“God, I hope so. I can’t think of anything better than the honor of chasing you out of your clothes for the rest of my life.” He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed.
“Even when we’re old?” She brushed the back of her hand over his jawline, rough with stubble.
“Especially when we’re old. We won’t have to keep it quiet for the kids down the hall.”
At that, they fell silent, both listening for William’s imminent call for breakfast, but he was still sleeping—or at least happily silent.