Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Suck him off, Aubrey,” Ledger commands from his post on the bed, lounging on the pillows.
I comply, dropping my mouth on Dev’s delicious cock, taking him deep, letting him fill my throat.
“Mmm. Yes. Worth waiting for too,” he mutters. His words drive me on until I swallow his release, warm and salty on my tongue.
When I let him fall from my mouth, Dev looks drunk on me. He swipes my hair from my face, as he tips his chin toward Ledger, who’s working his cock in his fist while staring wantonly at me.
“Looks like he wants you badly too,” Dev says.
“Don’t worry. I’m a helpful girl,” I say, and this people pleaser gets to pleasing, taking care of Ledger as well.
When he finishes, I collapse with a stupid, woozy smile on my face, glad their gratification is no longer delayed.
But when I wake at dawn, Ledger’s not in bed. He’s sweating, staring out the window and looking utterly lost.
29
MORNING DREAMS
Ledger
I can’t get the images out of my head. The dream—nightmare, really—keeps replaying.
I’m trying to blink off the awful reel flashing over and over. I’m really trying, but it won’t leave my head. With one hand pressed to the cool glass, I stare out the living room window, trying to make out the edge of the water, the height of the trees, but dawn hasn’t chased away the darkness yet. Only a hint of soft blue light tugs at the horizon. But the images feel like flies chasing me.
Until the soft pad of feet lands on my ears, then a gentle voice, full of concern, floats across the room. “Hey. Are you okay?”
Ah fuck.
With a heavy sigh, I barely turn to Aubrey. I don’t want her to see me like this, yet she’s seeing me like this.
I scrub a hand across the back of my neck. “I’m fine,” I mutter.
She comes up behind me but doesn’t touch. She’s careful as she asks, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I say, lying. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Do you want to come back to bed?”
More than you could ever know.
But I don’t want to wake up sweaty, startled, and fucking haunted again. Prior to last night, I hadn’t had a nightmare in ages. Not since I was injured two years ago. Not since it took me longer than I’d have liked to get back on the ice.
“I’m good,” I say.
After an exhale, she says, “I get bad dreams too.”
I snap my gaze to her. “What do you mean?”
“I do. I have dreams about tsunamis. Earthquakes. Waves that pull me out to sea.”
“That sounds unpleasant,” I say, and that’s putting it mildly.
“Yeah. It was. I still get them, but not as often as I once did,” she says quietly, and then moves to the nearby couch and sits down. Can’t let her sit alone, so I join her. She came out here to check on me after all.
“Was there a reason you were getting them?” Maybe if I focus on her my stupid brain will let go of the remnants of my nightmares.
“Happened a lot after my father died,” she admits, then her eyes shine, but she fights off the threat of tears. “Maybe I was processing my feelings. I’m not sure I entirely understand dreams. Or that anyone does. But I think I felt a lot of anxiety about wanting—” She stops, and this is clearly tough for her but she pushes on. “To be a good daughter for him even when he wasn’t around.”
Ah, hell. My heart thumps harder for her, my throat tightening too. “I’m sure you are. He’d be proud of you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Hey,” I say, then tuck a finger under her chin, making her meet my gaze. “You’re kind and funny, and you care about people. And you look out for your mom, and you’re a good friend, and your clients love you.”
“How do you know?” she counters with a sassy little smile.
That’s a very good question. But I man up and tell the damn truth. “I looked you up online,” I say. “When I saw you at Sticks and Stones late last year. I was curious about you. I’d just gotten divorced, and I’d known you so long but didn’t really know you. So, yeah, I looked you up. Your salon. You have great reviews. Everyone says you’re great at hair and a good listener.”
Maybe I had ulterior motives. Hell, of course I did. She was pretty and witty and warm. But she was seeing that other guy. And she’s my agent’s little sister, so I shut the search down pretty fast after that.
“That’s nice to hear. I try,” she says, then tilts her head and runs her hand across my knee in a tender touch. “When I had these dreams, I would try to do breathing exercises after. Or visualize something pleasant. Sometimes I would listen to music to ground myself in reality rather than the unpleasant dystopian world I felt stuck in.”