Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Pleasure shot through me. I screamed his name. And right before I crashed back into reality, he entered me in one powerful thrust and held still.
It hurt something fierce. I bit my bottom lip and he soothed it with his tongue and when the burn began to fade he began to move in a steady rhythm, base grinding against me every time he pushed further in. While he pressed kisses to my mouth, my neck, near my ear, his thrusts became more frantic. And with them, I could feel my body climb again.
“Mare, I’m coming,” he whispered and then I did as well, breaking apart while he groaned and shoved hard one last time, his body pulsing inside of me.
Sometime later, he lifted his head from the mattress and placed the gentlest of kisses on my closed lips. “How do you feel?” he murmured.
I chuckled and ran my fingers through his damp hair, kissed the side of his neck. “Like I just popped my cherry,” I told him. And even though I hated losing anything…losing this to him was the best loss of all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maren
Morning had always been my favorite part of the day. The slate wiped clean, the possibilities endless, the promise of what could be all start in the morning. Not this morning though. This morning sucks rotten eggs.
As soon as I hear the truck start up, I hide the consequences of my late night musings behind my shades and step out the front door with the urn holding my grandfather’s ashes cradled safely against my body.
Noah bounds up the steps, wearing a sun shirt and technical running tights under his basketball shorts. He’s in full-on camping mode.
“Good morning.”
“Speak for yourself,” I grumble.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, too busy playing the what if game. What if he’s changed? What if I can trust him? What if I forgive him? Does forgiving him mean I need to surrender my self-respect? Does it mean relinquishing my pride? The what if game only left me more confused than ever.
I’m not a thrill-seeker like Noah or a natural born risk-taker like Rowdy and Annabelle. I’m not built for it. My heart is fragile…it needs guarding.
“What happened to mornings being your favorite part of the day?”
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
I throw a fleeting glance in his direction and find him studying me. “How’s Jana?”
Noah’s amusement fades. “They found meth in the truck. Hank won’t be getting out for a long time. Jana is moving back into her place.”
“Is she going to be okay there?”
“Yeah. Her sister’s visiting for a week so she won’t be alone.” Checking me out, he says, “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
I sniff and hold up a backpack. “I didn’t consider camping when I packed to come here.”
“I’ve got everything we need anyway.”
“The tents?”
“Tent,” he corrects. At my blank expression, he takes my backpack out of my hand and turns back toward the truck. “We’ve shared one many times.”
“I think I had braces last time we shared one,” I remark, remembering the summer we had a sleepover in his backyard to watch the falling comets. We’d stayed up all night and only saw two––kind of a letdown. Not the “sharing a tent” with him part however.
He throws my backpack into the flatbed and braces his hands on the edge of the rails. A wolfish grin pries his lips apart to reveal his perfect teeth. “The last time we shared a tent you had on pink lace panties and you were most definitely not wearing braces.”
Nuts. I forgot about that trip. “Get in the truck.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, with my grandfather’s ashes safely ensconced in a box by my feet, we’ve fueled up on caffeine and are well on our way to the lake.
“How did you end up working with him?” I ask, my interest stirred. I never did get the story from my grandfather.
Noah continues to stare at the road ahead, his throat working as he swallows. “Remember how good to me he was when my parents died?”
How can I forget? I nod, recalling how my grandfather helped Noah with all the legal and physical implications of two people being laid to rest. Noah was in no state of mind to do anything and Rowdy stepped up and took care of it all.
Taking his eyes off the road, he levels me with a look so vulnerable and earnest it makes me want to soothe him, whisper in his ear and kiss him senseless. I still want him. After all these years. After everything that’s happened.
That indefinable thing drawing us together is still there, not diminished at all by time and distance. And I’m so tired of lying to myself about it.
“After you left, I had no prospects…no idea what to do––” He shrugs, his focus back on the road. “He offered me a job at the club and I took it.”