Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Mmmm,” I said, curling up into Silas’ chest.
He hugged me tightly, but just as suddenly, got up to leave.
“Where you going?” I asked around a yawn.
“Gotta go to the office. And you’ll have to come with me now, or I can come back for you at lunchtime,” he mumbled.
I shook my head and opened my eyes, mouth going dry when I saw his bare ass slipping into another pair of tighty whities.
I moaned in sadness, causing him to look over his shoulder and wink at me.
“What?” He asked.
God, he looked so good.
Not one single inch of his body wasn’t in perfect shape.
He had zero fat on him whatsoever.
That should be illegal.
I had fat, so he should have some, too.
“You look good,” I informed him.
He smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, watching as he slipped jeans up his thick, well defined thighs.
He shook his head. “Fine. My brain wouldn’t turn off last night, so I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Is this because of what we talked about last night?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Yes and no. Or, at least, it started out about that. Then I couldn’t turn it off, and I started thinking about other things. But did you want to stay or for me to take you to your place?”
“What about my car?” I asked.
“I’ll have it brought to you by this afternoon.”
“I have to be at work at ten,” I said to him, reluctantly getting out of bed and walking naked to the shower.
He didn’t follow me, and I found myself greatly disappointed.
He seemed different today.
More distant.
Not at all like he was yesterday, or even this morning when we went to sleep in each other’s arms in the wee hours of the morning.
I took a long, hot shower, relishing the way the hot water felt over my skin.
I was sore.
My vagina felt like it’d been pounded with a fist.
Silas wasn’t a small man.
In fact, I would say he was on the bigger side of big.
Which explained why my vagina wanted to revolt when I pressed the bar of soap to it and slid it through my legs.
My nipples were just as sore, not because they’d been pounded, but because they’d been pinched.
Wearing a shirt today should prove interesting.
The lace bra that I’d worn last night was definitely not happening.
I’d just have to go home and put on a sports bra for the day.
Although I’d promised myself that I’d never wear one of those torture devices again since that was all I was allowed to wear while in prison, I couldn’t think of anything more comfortable to wear right at that moment.
Especially with the way that even the slightest of water hitting the tips caused a little sting of pain.
I cataloged the rest of my injuries.
Bruises in the shape of fingers ringed each wrist. Hand print bruises spanned each hip. Hickies on my chest.
I looked like I’d been through four rounds…not that I was complaining.
Last night had been just what I needed…all the way up until the retelling of what had happened that horrible night.
I forgot…and I felt again.
Something I’d been needing for going on eight years.
“I set some clothes out on the bed,” I heard Silas rumble from the open doorway.
I looked over at him to see him looking straight at me.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I can put my old ones back on.”
He laughed. “We left them outside, and they’re soaked. It rained last night.”
“It did?” I asked in surprise.
He nodded. “Hard.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling at him through the glass.
He stared at me for long moments, and I let him, pressing my chest up against the slick surface as I leaned my forehead against the glass.
His eyes seemed to darken, but I heard the doorbell, and he growled.
“Hurry, we need to leave in ten,” he ordered before slipping away just as silently as he’d come.
I turned off the water, happy that I would now smell like him, and pulled a towel off the rack beside the shower.
It was as I was drying my sore breasts that I heard it.
A sound that you never, ever want to hear when you’re naked in a man’s house that you barely even know.
“Hey, Silas. I was wondering if you could spare another beer. I’m making a roast today,” my mother, Reba Berry, asked sweetly from the other room.
I froze mid nipple drying, and stared in horror at the wall.
I hadn’t realized that my mother and Silas knew each other.
And well enough for her to ask him for a beer, at that?
Why wouldn’t Silas have said something last night?
I wasn’t a secret.
He had to know I was related to her.
I mean, if she was comfortable enough to come over here like that, than he had to have seen the resemblance between the two of us.
I mean, I looked just like her.
Long black hair, the same birth mark on our necks, in nearly the same place.
Same body type.
She was me, and I was her.
Only thirty years separated our ages.
So I sat on the bed and listened as my mother spoke with Silas about her roast and my father, all the while being livid.
It went on so long, in fact, that I got bored.
And started to look around.
Then I started to clean because, seriously, what was the deal with not throwing the clothes into the hamper?
So while I listened to my mother talk about her rose bushes that were lining the edge of her property, and the way my dad cooked steak last night for dinner, I started to launder Silas’ clothes.
I started with the ones on his floor, picking them up and shoving them into the basket that had all of two things in it. A single sock, and a pair of his underwear.
By the time I was done, the entire thing was filled to the brim.
“Silas, my son tells me you called him the other night when you saw my girl on the side of the road…at the scene of that crash. I wanted to thank you. She really needs all the help she can get,” my mother said, making me freeze in place.