Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
She hadn't thought of him or her overdue bills once in twelve hours. So she didn't feel too obsessive when she logged into an online agoraphobics group and searched the discussions on I told him to leave when he found out about my disorder. Zero results returned.
Not surprised, she tried, He won't sleep with me. Zero results returned.
Her face heated. “Bullshit.” She bit her lip and typed, He thinks I'm nuts. Thirty-three pages of results, but none of the discussions applied to her situation.
Had she overreacted when she found him reading her self-help books? She sniffed and rolled her shoulders. Didn't matter. He left anyway. She closed the laptop and leaned back. It was for the best.
Except she couldn't distract her mind from the prior night, reliving the strength of his arms around her, the spicy scent of his breath, the pressure of his mouth against her lips, and the way he owned her with a flick of his tongue.
She tried not to listen to the silent slither of loneliness as it snaked its way around her. Tried not to analyze why she felt colder and more hollow tonight than any other night. Tried not think about how much she missed the intoxicating warmth of a man sleeping beside her, skin on skin, even if that memory had been created and destroyed by Brent.
None of that solved her financial problems. If she could ship her completed sales by Tuesday, maybe she'd only be without water and electricity for a few days.
She grabbed her cell phone and opened a text to contact Zach. They never communicated this way, and she waffled with how to start the conversation. She went with courtesy. Are you feeling better?
Thirty seconds later, he replied, yes will b there tues.
Her heart soared then plummeted. Would he still want sex or had she scared him away from that? She imagined his lips on hers, and the remembered sensation suddenly seemed...uncertain. Maybe, he'd kissed her weakly because he didn't want to kiss her at all. A swallow lodged in her throat. She was flawed, after all.
After Van's repulsion to her offer for sex, she felt used and unclean. She cracked her knuckles not really feeling them. Her insides twisted in knots. Sleeping with Zach had lost its appeal, but she had nothing else to offer him.
She wouldn't be so dependent if she'd gone to the mailbox while soaring on liquid courage. But no amount of tequila would help her conquer the fear. She didn't want to conquer it, because she needed it, the adrenaline rush and the lung-squeezing pain. Like an addiction, the fear fed her, made her feel alive, and gave her something to focus on. She was so messed up.
The phone dinged with a new text. will u keep the lights on this time?
An onslaught of trembling tightened her muscles. If she said Yes, it would be a new low in her desperation. If she said No, she would lose the one person she had to depend on.
Is this the man you want the lights on with?
Unbidden, Dr. Michael's words filled her mind with another man, one with a seductive smile and a perfect scar.
With visions of a sleeping Amber teasing the surface of his mind, Van pushed the key into the deadbolt on her front door. The key he'd swiped from her kitchen drawer the prior night after he'd sneaked back in.
He’d tried to stay away, but it was a compulsion. Coming to this neighborhood. Watching Liv. And now, he had an even more compelling motive to stop by.
Strange how Amber hadn't moved the drape on the door and checked the lock before her alcohol-induced haze. He knew this because he'd used that unlocked door to slip back in after she'd passed out. Apparently, the agoraphobia thing had a stronger hold on her than the OCD. If not the agoraphobia, then it had to have been him knocking the little compulsive-order-checker off her game.
Whatever the reason, it worked in his favor. He'd crept back in after she'd passed out, locked it behind him, and quickly located a house key.
His pulse thrummed a calming tempo as he closed the front door soundlessly behind him. Just like the night before, he'd listened through her windows with the mics and ear buds, tracking her movements and waiting for her breathing to fall into an even rhythm of sleep.
A grin stretched his lips as he recalled her slurred monologues. She'd been wildly entertaining. Even more satisfying was knowing he had driven her to drink. Because let’s be honest, she was entirely too uptight to drink for no good reason. So when he'd found her snoring with a bottle of mixto tucked beneath her arm, he'd left tracks in the carpet just to mess with her little hungover mind.
Tonight, she'd fallen asleep sober. Tonight, he would be more cautious. Besides, he was only there to run reconnaissance and return the key—now that he had his own copy.