Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Then, don’t,” I whisper against his mouth and kiss him.
He makes good on his word. He makes me come fast and finds his own release as I’m spasming around him. We finish up, dry ourselves, brush our teeth, do all the things normal couples do — that we used to do — and it feels so good, so right. When we’re both dressed in what we’re going to sleep in — me in a t-shirt and cotton Star Wars panties; him in soft gray sleeping pants — we walk over to his bed.
“This is where you want to talk?” He stops at the edge, as I crawl to the center and sit down with my legs crossed.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to concentrate.” His eyes map their way down my body.
I roll my eyes. “Shut up and get in here. Just stay on that side.”
“I’ll try,” he says in a voice that isn’t very convincing, but he does what I ask.
We both grab pillows and set them on our laps, like we need lap desks to take notes or shields to keep us from climbing on each other again.
“You want to start?” I ask, giving him permission to ask whatever he wants.
He clears his throat. “Why the pictures?”
“Oh, my God.” I laugh. “That’s your first question?”
“You never told me,” he says. “You know how I get.”
“What, you couldn’t find the answer on my social media or any of my emails?” I raise an eyebrow and bite back a smile.
“You don’t have social media.” He scowls. “And you changed the password to your email, and Liam won’t help me hack you.”
I stare at him for a moment and decide not to entertain that, right now.
“I forgot what Luke looks like,” I say, my words catching at the admission.
“I think about him and Mom a lot now, but I can’t remember his face anymore. His parents took down his profiles, so it’s not like I can look for a picture online. I’d taken everything to my dad’s guest house since I was going to pack that up as well, but then everything happened. . .”
I shrug. “I was terrified I’d forget what you look like, so I put pictures of you where I had to see you every day. It hurt, it still hurts, but I couldn’t. . .” I blink rapidly. “I couldn’t live with myself if I forgot your face.” I pause and take a breath. “I know I can always find you online, but it’s not the same. I wanted those memories, you know?”
He’s quiet for a long time, just staring at me. His face is impassive, but his eyes are pained. “Fuck, Lyla,” he whispers after a moment.
“How long did you wait after you found out where I was?” I ask, taking a shaky breath.
“Less than a day,” he says, eyes dancing when he sees my shock. “I watched you all day.”
I purse my lips. “Yet you waited until Wade was about to kiss me, to make your presence known.”
His eyes darken. “He kept touching you all night. I wanted to fucking kill him.”
I keep what I want to say to myself. “He’s inconsequential,” I say. “And not worth discussing right now.”
He searches my eyes for a moment and nods lightly. I uncross my legs and get out of bed to get my phone. He’s quiet as I log into my therapy patient portal and click the video I want to show him. Well, I don’t want to show it to him, but I don’t think I can explain the accident myself.
“I went to therapy,” I start. “Prescott forced me, but that’s a story for another day. I did hypnotherapy since it’s supposed to ‘go deep and make you relive your trauma so you can cope’ or something like that.”
“Did it help?”
“It did, actually,” I say. “I had my therapist record some of my sessions.”
His brows furrow. “You can do that?”
“I asked and she agreed.” I search his eyes. “I want you to watch one of them.”
He swallows but remains silent.
“It won’t be easy,” I say. “You may feel differently about me once you know,” I say, looking at his hands on the pillow as I whisper, “when you hear about the rapes.”
I take a shaky breath and wipe my tears quickly. I hate this. Even though I was the one who was assaulted, I’m also the one who carries the burden of the secret and the shame of what happened. I’ve learned to live with that, but I love the way he looks at me, and it would kill me if that changes.
He puts both my hands in his and waits for me to look at him. “There’s nothing in this world that would make me feel differently towards you.” He squeezes my hands. “Nothing.”