Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I worked myself back and forth, over and over in long strokes, feeling myself come closer to the edge by the second. I felt the tension spooling at the bottom of my spine and my cock twitch in my hand and knew it wouldn’t be long.
I thought of how her sapphire-blue eyes lit up when she was angry, or frustrated, or—in the brief moment when I’d seen it—amused, and the way her beautiful skin had flushed after that shower. I tightened my hand around myself, imagining that it was the clenching of her pussy as she came around me and held me there, inside of her.
I came with a groan, spilling all over my hand and thankful that I’d decided to do this in the shower. Heaving a few deep breaths, I leaned my forehead against the cold tile wall and let the water wash over my back, wondering when it had happened that I’d allowed myself to start wanting a woman like this again.
6
MACY
I groaned as I turned over in the bed, looking at the high sunlight streaming in through the window and then at the old-fashioned wooden clock hanging on the wall above the bed. Nine forty-five. As I sat up, stretching and rubbing my eyes, I found it hard to believe that I’d slept in so long. I hadn’t slept this well or this deeply for ages, and I felt the residual stiffness from the long hours spent in bed lingering in my bones.
The day before had been so chaotic and panic-inducing that, in the midst of all the moving pieces and changing winds, it took me a minute to remember where I was. For some reason, there had been a second when the surroundings themselves had made more sense than the fact that I’d slept in. I’d spent so long being so tightly wound—either from school stress, work stress, or the stress of being with a man who terrified me—that feeling safe enough to sleep in was foreign to me by this point.
As I got out of bed, I thought over the course of the day and pondered what I needed to do. As much as it grated to admit it, I did owe Dillon more of an explanation than what I’d given him, which had been absolutely nothing.
My face started to flame as I thought of the full day before and everything that had gone on between us, from our argument to how he’d encroached on me in the bathroom. I knew he hadn’t meant to walk in on me, but I also knew that he definitely hadn’t been opposed to what he’d seen when he came in. He’d stood there for a good three seconds as his breath got shallower and his face got redder before he finally turned away and shut the door behind him.
Regardless, I knew I needed to explain myself to him. At least a little bit. The idea made my hand start shaking as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head. The last man I’d let in had taken systematic control over my choices, my finances, and my body until I’d become a shell of myself, and I was goddamn terrified of that happening again.
Taking a deep breath, I walked out into the living room, where I saw Dillon sitting in front of the enormous computer setup that I’d noticed the day before. He was working on something extremely complicated that I was barely able to make heads or tails of, and I cautiously approached him, nervous about disturbing him. Alex had always been quick to fly off the handle when I interrupted him while he was “in the zone.”
“Um… good morning,” I said, walking up to him and twisting my fingers together in my sweatshirt pocket.
He tore his eyes away from his computer screen and finally looked up at me, fixing me with a cautious smile. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept great, actually. Thank you.” It was strange; in a house with a man I didn’t know, isolated in the Smoky Mountains, I really had slept better than I had in years.
“Good.” He tilted his head back to the computer bay. “I’m almost done with my work, but you can help yourself to coffee if you want it. Everything’s on the counter.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, turning away from him and walking away from him. What was it about him that seemed to understand my need for a little bit of space before I bared everything about my history to him? He seemed to have a sixth sense for reading my moods, but I didn’t want to think about that right now. It wouldn’t do me any good as I got ready to bare my soul.
“Do you need coffee?” I asked from the kitchen.
“Black with two sugars,” he said, not breaking in his typing. “There are mugs in the cabinet above the coffee maker.”