Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Fucking demons below, help me.
Reaching up, I tug my tie loose enough to pull over my head then just grab my dress shirt with both hands and rip it apart. Buttons fly across the bathroom. Some even strike the glass door, but the little pinging sounds don’t break through to her as she slowly collapses into herself.
It’s honestly not like my wet shirt would make any difference to her right now, but I once read something about tummy time with dads and babies.
I don’t even remember where it was or why I was reading it, but whatever I read said the closest way to bond is through skin-to-skin contact. Because of the intimacy of being vulnerable or something.
Kicking my dress shoes off, I carefully open the door so I don’t startle her. Not that I would with how sucked into her emotions she is. She’s so pulled into her own being, she probably wouldn’t notice an atomic bomb going off beyond the thought of it being a relief.
Grief is fucked up like that.
Stepping into the cold water, I slowly shut it off. I don’t want her scared of me. I don’t want her fearing me even more for intruding.
Kneeling down to her side, I wait a moment before figuring the direct approach will be the best. Taking her by the shoulders with as much gentle force as I can muster, I carefully and slowly unwrap her body from its ball.
Pulling her up to me, I guide one leg then the other across my lap.
Without warning, she buries her head into my shoulder and her naked chest pushes against mine.
Scooting up against the cold wall of the shower, I try to will the heat and warmth of my body to flee me and flow into her.
I think of every day I spent in the sands of faraway countries. The bullets whizzing all around me. I think of my early youth spent in the swamps and marshes of Louisiana, and how the heat just seemed to permeate every inch of the world around me.
Time loses all meaning as we sit, holding onto each other.
And fuck, does she hold me.
I feel like she’s trying to keep her body from spinning off the face of the Earth as it rotates us around the sun.
When the heaving of her body finally lessens to small, quiet shudders, I’m pretty sure she’s about cried herself out.
Standing us up from the floor, I help her gain her balance, and fuck…
I don’t even see the ghost of the woman I want as mine in those broken eyes. The shell before me is in need of nurture and care.
Not the stupid fumbling mind and fingers I have to offer.
Reaching behind me, I turn the hot water back on and try not to let it show on my face how fucking stupid I am for not getting some cold started first.
Dumbass.
Turning around, I set the cold just right and will my mind to blank. This is truly the first time I’ve ever seen Sophia naked and bared to the world…
And I don’t feel a single ounce of the all-consuming desire that has been building up inside me for months.
Showers with a woman like Sophia almost feel like a sin without any sexy time, but neither one of us is any shape for something like that. Each caress of the feminine shape of her body just feels as if I’m taking care of her in a way I couldn’t do with words.
With how fast I feel the hot water turning cold, I know I don’t have the time to do anything but give her the kind of shower I did in the Marines. Hair, pits, tits, and ass.
No hanky-panky or scrubbing down.
Thankfully though the warmth lasts long enough for me to finish her up.
Guiding her from the shower, I find the towels she sat out and wrap her up in them. Having no clue how to do one of those hair things women do with towels, I dry her hair the best I can.
Her body and face do nothing but stand in front of me, staring at me, as I methodically dry her off. Up one leg, down the other. Pat dry the middle and make sure her glorious breasts are in tip-top shape…
Fuck, I shouldn’t be thinking of those.
Her clothes come next and to hell with bothering with a bra. I’m counting myself lucky just getting panties and leggings on her.
Guiding her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, I try to lead her to the bed so I can get her tucked in, but she doesn’t want to be led that way.
She shakes my hand off and scoops up Fluffers the cat. Then she does a zombie-like shamble down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room. Where she sinks herself into an old and worn leather recliner.