Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
But here he is, knowing in his gut when he walked out the hotel door that I was not okay, despite me saying I was.
He’s the only person I’ve ever let see me vulnerable. With Ladd, I could cry at a sappy movie and not be embarrassed. I could have a nightmare and wake up with his arms around me, gentling me with soft words until I fell back asleep.
I could have him walk back into my life after twelve years with every reason to hate me and allow myself to crumble before him.
“You’re going to be fine, Greer. I promise.”
His words are soft but lined with steel, so sure he is of my abilities. People look at me and think I’m made of that same steel, that I have no insecurities. Ladd knows that’s not true, and it’s one of the reasons we made such a great couple. We lent strength to the other when we needed it, and right now, I need it.
If only for just a minute more. Then I swear I’ll let him go.
Ladd’s arms encircle me with support. His chin is on top of my head, and I rest my cheek against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat calms me, and the tears dry as I knew they would with his offer of solace.
“You’re the strongest woman I know,” Ladd says gruffly, now giving me platitudes to make sure I buck up again.
I smile because it’s classic Ladd—knowing exactly what to say at exactly the right time.
Nodding, I relish the feel of him against me, around me, and then I know it’s time to let go.
I start to pull away from him but only make it a few inches before his arms lock tight and I can’t move any farther. I tip my head to look up at him, my temple grazing his jaw. He dips his head, and then my cheek is against his. I feel his breath on my neck, and I hate that it happens, but my pulse accelerates.
We’re both frozen in time, holding this intimate hug, cheek to cheek, but almost by empathic agreement, we start to pull away from each other. We stop again, though, our mouths almost touching.
My breath rushes out, and I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it. I’m afraid to move, afraid to break what feels like some kind of spell between us.
Whatever this is, though, I can’t take it any further than this hug. I’m the one who hurt Ladd. I’m the one who threw away our relationship. I don’t have the right to anything from him again.
In fact, I shouldn’t even be standing here, putting him in this position to sacrifice his own principles. When I broke it off, and he walked away, I had no right to anything from him anymore. He’s already given me far too much after what he did for me in El Salvador.
I push against him, expecting him to loosen his hold and let me go. He doesn’t, and I’m confused.
And curious.
I tilt back a bit so I can see him—so I can see his eyes, which I’ve always been able to read—and I’m not ready for the intensity that greets me.
So many emotions warring within—desire, anger, sorrow, need.
He wants me, but he doesn’t want to want me.
I need to be strong for him.
Once again, I try to pull free, but his arms are like steel traps. Before I can ask him to let me go, his mouth presses to mine.
Not in a lustful, passionate kiss but one that is whisper-soft and warm. One that doesn’t move deep but doesn’t draw away. A kiss that exists for several heartbeats and is so very quiet. Hesitant… a mere exchange of breath.
For a moment, I sense hesitation, and Ladd goes still. I don’t move a muscle because again, I don’t want to initiate anything. It’s not my right. My eyes are closed, listening for any indication of what he wants, and then he huffs a sound of frustration, as if making a decision that he doesn’t like but has no choice.
His mouth crushes into mine, one hand moving to the back of my head to hold me in place. I sigh into the unexpected depth of the kiss, rife with savagery built upon twelve years of anger and maybe some long-hidden desire.
I don’t know where this is going, only that I’m grateful Ladd is giving me something. When I went to his house ten years ago, it was with the idea that I would beg and grovel for him to take me back. I knew what a colossal mistake I’d made, and I knew that my wishes for a happy life would only ever be fulfilled by Ladd and not my career, which I had placed above him.
But he had moved on, and I was heartbroken all over again. When we broke up, even though it was my call, I was just as destroyed as he was. I didn’t push him away because I didn’t want him. I pushed him away so he could have better than I could ever give him.