Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
He moves back an inch to escape my touch. “Pick one friend to talk about it with if you must. Alannah maybe,” He goes on like I didn’t even speak. “Though she’s a lot to take, she isn’t a blabbermouth. But I don’t want it widely known and make sure whoever you pick to tell doesn’t bring it up around me. Ever.”
I do my best to tamp my temper down while simultaneously feeling the twinge of physical rejection. Again.
He raises his blond eyebrows in challenge. Neither of us says anything for a long moment.
“Are you even here?” he asks.
“What?” I whisper.
He huffs like he’s exasperated with me. And I’m shocked at his attitude.
“I’m trying to have a conversation with you,” he states.
“Why do you think I’m that shallow? Because I pulled out a sex toy you think I want to have an affair? I already explained that I was trying to open the door for us. Us, Adam.” I gesture between us. “In all that literature your doctor gave me–”
He cuts me off with another huff of exasperation. “And I already told you how I feel about… that. I told you long before the other night that I’ll let you know if and when I might be ready and yet you’re pushing the issue anyway, despite what I asked of you.”
I blink hard and jolt in surprise.
He goes on, “That’s why I’ve come up with the alternative. Because I’m tired of being pushed.”
“Forget it,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I won’t push you anymore.”
He shakes his head sharply. “No. You can’t un-ring a bell, Chloe. Obviously it’s weighing on you. So you have my offer. Think about it.”
God, this is mortifying.
When I pulled out my vibrator, I was looking to open the door to intimacy between us, not have him push me into other men’s arms. I wanted him to participate. I wanted him to take over, or watch. Something. Anything. Anything but agitatedly asking me to take it to another room so he could sleep.
The moment felt like a record scratch. I didn’t take it to another room. I turned it off and put it in the drawer before bursting into tears and apologizing. Explaining. He kept his back turned and didn’t offer any sort of comfort, muttered for me to go to sleep, told me I was drunk.
I took a hot shower and then crawled back into bed. I called his name. I touched his back. He pretended to be asleep. The next day he told me without eye contact that he wanted to have breakfast in his home office and get an early start. He barely looked at me and we didn’t speak all day until dinner time where he talked about his job and an article he was working on. He acted like nothing at all had happened, but I know I don’t have a good poker face.
And then a day later, we’re still not talking much, and he hands me the handwritten hall pass.
“I’m okay to wait,” I insist. “Or I will be if you stop this silliness.”
“I need your needs to be met, Chloe,” he presses.
“Then maybe do something to help meet them,” I mutter.
He jerks back like I’ve slapped him, then says, “I wish I could.”
I shove my chair back as I fly up to standing, then I drop to the floor by his wheelchair, putting my forehead to his knee. “I don’t mean it like that. You know I don’t. Not that way. By letting intimacy back into our relationship. You can touch me. You can kiss me. You can hold me and use one of my toys on me. Or watch me and hold me afterwards. I could try touching you in places and see how you feel about it, too. The pamphlets had some suggestions for bringing intimacy back into our relationship.”
He sighs like he’s absolutely exasperated with me.
“Then we can fall asleep together cuddling afterwards, Adam, like we used to do. We don’t even snuggle anymore. We don’t even kiss other than a quick peck. I don’t need the whole nine yards to be satisfied. I was just trying to open the door for something… not meaning for it to turn into… this. I just need some kind of intimacy between us. Just… a… ”
I want to crawl into his lap, but of course I can’t. I realize I’m leaning on a body part he can’t even feel and he’s making no move to offer comfort whatsoever, so I straighten up.
He’s gripping the arms of his wheelchair. He’s gritting his teeth.
Seeing me this upset, he doesn’t even have it in him to stroke my hair or offer some words of comfort?
My belly pitches and I feel a chill creep over me slowly. Reality sinks in. And it doesn’t feel nice.