Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“But it was so much more effective to lock you out of my bedroom until you’d scoured the internet for answers.”
“The inter what?”
“Never mind.”
He drops the yearbook and pulls me up against his chest, planting kisses on my hairline, my cheeks, my forehead. “You’re a sweetheart. A princess. An angel. My sugar. Baby. Those are the only names I’ll ever use.” He holds me so tightly, a tear leaks out of my right eye. “I’m sorry that happened to you. My offer to kill him stands until the end of time.”
“Noted.” He dips his mouth to kiss me, but as much as I want to…talking about the last four years has made me feel kind of heavy. Not to mention, if Blaste kisses me, we’re probably going to have sex and my mother will overhear, since I can’t stop whimpering and moaning when this man is inside of me. “D-do you think we could get out of here.”
He throws a miserable glance down at the yearbook. “Right now, sugar, I will do anything you want to do.” He tucks his tongue into his cheek, looking thoughtful. “Matter of fact, I’ll always do anything you want to do.”
“We’ve come a long way since last night.”
“Seventy-four years.”
A giggle slips out of me. I’ve never been a giggler, but somehow this man has turned me into one. “You know what I mean. Emotionally.”
“I do know what you mean, Shiloh.” He cups my face, stares down into my eyes. “I feel like I could tell you anything in my head and you’d already know it was coming.”
My chest tightens. “I feel safe with you. I feel important.”
With a groan, he scoops me up and backs me into the closet door, rattling it while he uses his tongue on my mouth. “Ah, sugar, you are the most important. And safe as houses, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I start to wind my thighs around his waist, but my last remaining brain cell stops me. “We should go to the mall. You’re going to need clothes while we figure out if you’re staying here or going back to the past. And if that’s even possible—”
“We, Shiloh.” He bares his teeth against my cheek. “If we’re staying or going back to the past. I’m not making any compromises on that.”
Okay. Now I’m overwhelmed.
Last night, I was so shocked by the appearance of this man from the past, this man who feels like mine, like a long-lost part of me, that I haven’t had time to think about what happens now. But in the light of day, there are decisions to make that can’t be ignored any longer. And if he…we…decide to go back to nineteen forty-nine, is it even possible?
One thing at a time.
“As much as I like you shirtless, you need something to wear out in public. I have one T-shirt that might fit you. And only because Amazon sent me the wrong size…” Blaste is still watching me with an instructible expression, but I scoot past him to retrieve the plain, white shirt off my shelf, shaking it out and presenting it to him. “Here you go.”
Grunting, still staring at me from beneath drawn eyebrows, he tugs the garment over his head, rolling it down his excessive muscle and…
“Unbelievable. It’s double XL and still too tight.”
He saunters toward me, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “You know what else is too tight, sugar—”
“Blaste.”
He hangs his head on a groan. “Fine, let’s go to the fucking mall.”
Chapter
Eight
Blaste
I’ve always prided myself on being ready for anything, but I’m not prepared for what the world has become. It smells different. Like fuel. The air is thicker. Cars are oddly shaped and quiet. People don’t smile at each other anymore. Everyone’s heads are bent over their phones on the bus to the mall. Pants are looser, shoes are…frankly, ridiculous looking. Huge and gleaming white, big marshmallows stuck on everyone’s feet. You wouldn’t catch me dead in them.
I’m getting that crowded feeling in my chest again, overwhelmed by the way my town has transformed overnight, places I used to frequent are gone. Or different. It’s easy to focus on Shiloh, though. Lord, is it easy. She’s like a beacon in the middle of the fog, guiding me in the right direction. I put my arm around her on the bus and she fits herself against me, a hand curled on my chest and everything inside of me goes calm.
Until we’re inside the mall, that is. Sounds are unrecognizable, people are like cartoon versions of what people used to look like. A lot of them are staring at me as they pass, as if I’m the one who doesn’t belong—and I don’t. Shiloh seems to understand exactly what I’m thinking, though. Seems to understand that my thoughts are racing, my pulse thumping like a jackrabbit’s foot, because she threads her fingers through mine and smiles, bringing me back to my center. She is rapidly becoming that center. An integral part of me. How was I operating like a regular human before I sped through time and landed in her backyard? I can feel us fusing from two people into one with every second that passes. Becoming an inseparable unit.