Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I’m so turned on I feel faint. I wonder if he’d catch me if I went down. Would he put his hands on me?
Would he revive me with a kiss?
I’ve never wished for anything more than I wish for that right now.
I need to touch him. It starts as this thought that radiates out to my fingertips, my muscle memory taking over as I raise my hand, my mouth growing incredibly dry.
With a snap, he catches my wrist in his hand, his eyes boring into mine. “Posey,” he breathes.
Will he kiss me?
Please.
My body’s numb.
There’s a knock at the door, jolting me in my spot, and Ledger drops my hand. He’s already putting his shirt back on as I try to shake myself out of this spell he has me under. He moves quickly to answer the door, and I spin slowly to see who’s there.
“You ready?” Lazarus spits out as soon as he sees me.
Ledger steps in front of me. “I’ll walk her out of the club,” he says as if he doesn’t trust anyone else with the job.
Lazarus wrinkles his nose in disdain, but growls out a begrudging, “Fine.”
I follow as Ledger leads me out of the room and down a long hallway. He places his hand at the small of my back, and I hate that it makes my skin prickle with heat.
We move through the club without a word, and I give him a tiny wave goodbye as he watches me climb into the back of a Range Rover.
The door slams, and I know he can no longer see me through the dark tint of the window. Even though he never turns away.
He stands on guard, watching the car pull away from the club. My phone vibrates from my purse a few minutes later, and I pull it out, staring at the message from Ledger.
Your turn.
I study the message, wondering what he could mean. Does he want to see tattoos covering my body? I don’t have any to show him.
Or does he want something else? Something that makes me vulnerable to him like he was to me earlier?
It was never about seeing him without a shirt. That was just a bonus. It was about seeing his artwork. A piece of him he doesn’t share with others.
As soon as I get home, I rush to my room, looking for the perfect piece of my soul to share with Ledger.
Chapter 11
Ledger
It’s been over an hour since I told Posey it was her turn to share. It’s not about wanting to see her tattoos, because I’m guessing she doesn’t have any, but more about seeing her. The real her.
The one that nobody else sees.
Although if a picture of her soft skin with a tattoo covering it shows up on my phone, I won’t be disappointed.
Not at all.
I make my way home after a long night at the club, leaving the closing responsibilities to Adele. As soon as I enter my condo, I slide my clothes off and put on a pair of gray sweatpants. I lounge on the couch, staring at my phone, wondering about Posey.
As I’m looking, a text comes through.
In the quiet of the night, I roam alone,
Echoes of emptiness, my only tone.
No hand to hold, no voice to hear,
Loneliness, my constant, silent seer.
Amidst the crowd, a solitary soul,
Longing for connection to make me whole.
But in this vast expanse of solitude’s reign,
I find solace in the echoes of my pain.
I read the message over and over, my heart swelling. The need to hold her closer overpowering me.
Did you write that?
Yes. Please don’t tell me it’s awful, even if you think it is.
It’s beautiful. It really is.
I can’t believe she’d think I’d say anything awful about her poem.
Well, now you know something nobody else does. I’ve never shared my poetry with anybody.
I’m honored.
I need to hear her voice. Need to connect with her more than I already am.
Can you talk?
I don’t know. This is so wrong. What if somebody overhears me?
I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Forget I asked.
Before I can think further about it, my phone lights up with an incoming call.
It’s her.
“Hello,” I say, anticipating the sound of her voice on the other end.
“Hi.” Her voice is quiet, threadbare, like she doesn’t want anyone to overhear her.
I feel bad for putting her up to this. “We don’t have to talk if you might get caught.”
“It’s okay. I want to talk to you. I miss you.”
Fuck. The way the need drips from her voice makes my throat go dry.
“I miss you too,” I say, not worrying about the implications of my words. Just wanting to be honest with her. “Your poem is almost sad. Did you write it a long time ago?”
“I wrote it last week.”
I don’t want to mention Bane, because it makes me sick to think about her marrying him, but I can’t stop thinking about the girl in the poem. How she’s lonely. So, I tell her my own truth. “Sometimes I feel lonely even when I’m with those closest to me.”