Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” I chuckle.
As if he knew we were talking about him, Jack jogs up the drive. He’s definitely a creature of habit.
“Speak of the devil,” Eloise says.
“The devil indeed. Why do you suppose he runs in pants and a long-sleeved shirt?”
“To sweat more, I suppose.”
I stand. “I’m going to see if he’ll make an exception and come to the carnival with me.”
“Good luck,” she says as I descend the stairs.
“You need a shower,” Jack says, eyeing me just before opening the door.
“So do you.” I follow him into the garage. “Want to shower together?”
“I don’t have hot water.” He removes his shirt, tosses it on the floor, then grabs the tape and wraps his hands.
“I don’t mind.” I lose my shirt and my shorts. “You should come to the carnival with me tonight. I’m taking Eloise. I’ll win you a stuffed animal or buy you cotton candy.”
Jack eyes me while securing the tape. I toss my bra aside along with my panties.
He punches the bag.
I turn on the hose and gasp when the cold water hits my skin.
“Told you it’s cold.” He continues to punch the bag.
It’s fucking freezing, but I stifle any further reactions. After a quick rinse-off, I set the hose by the drain and grab his soap bar. It doesn’t suds well without hot water, but it’s good enough. I rub it over my body, giving my breasts extra focus.
Jack sneaks several quick peeks. When I rinse off, I make sure to get everything clean, aiming the nozzle between my legs while my other hand slides between them.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, punching harder.
The cold water has goosebumps blooming along my skin and my nipples harden more than ever. I feel sensitive and responsive everywhere.
“Do you have an extra towel?”
“Nope.” His leg swings to the side of the bag, landing with a harsh smack.
“I’ll just walk around until I air dry.” I wring out my hair and peruse the perimeter of the garage.
Jack grumbles something else that sounds like a string of expletives, but I can’t say for sure. Then he rips off the tape, strips, and rinses off with soap and the hose. I suspect he’s doing it just for the cold water.
When my backside feels dry, I sit on the piano bench and play another song from The Piano. And then another …
Jack uses the lone towel to dry off before wrapping it around his waist.
My fingers pause, and I slowly lift a leg over the piano bench to straddle it, wholly exposed to him. “Baines is the endgame. I like him, but Alisdair loved her too. It took him a while, but I think he loved her. I know it’s an unpopular opinion. He was her husband. And he made the biggest sacrifice by giving her up. He could have removed all her fingers and forced himself on her, but he never went that far despite the temptation and complete blow to his ego that his wife was cheating on him.”
“He tried to rape her when she was on her way to Baines’s place. He cut off her finger.” Jack’s face sours while he runs a hand through his wet hair.
“Passion is the least rational feeling. We say ‘making love,’ but love is a broad term. I think the church likes to use the word to make sex seem like more than just two people getting off. But it’s passion, a carnal urge. It doesn’t make sense. And both Baines and Alisdair treated Ada like a sexual object. The only difference is that Baines used her piano as a bargaining chip, and Alisdair used his role as her husband. But Ada didn’t care about marriage and promises. She cared about her piano. Baines had the bigger bargaining chip. Who’s to say that had Alisdair used the piano to his advantage, Ada might not have fallen in love with him over time? He was a handsome man. Nice body. Inviting smile. And Ada was a very sexual being.”
Jack’s gaze finds a permanent home between my spread legs. He wets his lips and nods. “Fair point.”
“I have to get ready for the carnival.”
Jack shakes his head and murmurs, “Not yet.”
His patience pushes me to my limit. So, I go for the jugular. “Archer messaged me. He’s desperate to see me. I wonder if he’ll be at the carnival.” I stand, naked ass swaying toward my discarded clothes by the drain.
“I’m not doing this. If you parade around here naked, don’t say his name. It’s like you want him dead. Is that what you want, Francesca?”
I turn with my dirty clothes gathered in my arms. “If I say his name, you’ll kill him?”
“I’m going to kill him. You mentioning his name will only expedite it.”
I laugh—the nervous kind. This is a game, but unlike any game I’ve ever played. And the mysterious side that drew me to him has taken a wrong turn. I can’t read him. Is he telling me the truth disguised as a joke? Or is he joking just to test me? To see if I trust him like I’ve tested Archer.