Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“I want him. I really do. It’s just…”
“Just what?” she prompts when I can’t get it out.
“I think I’m broken. I want Victor, but there’s a good chance I’ll freeze if I try to go there with him.”
“You haven’t had sex since the um…since…well—”
“Since my attack,” I respond, rescuing her. I don’t want to tell her that I’ve never had sex other than the rape. She’s having enough trouble talking about my rape. Everyone does. Heck, I don’t want to talk about it either. It’s easier to pretend it was all a horrible nightmare.
“You’ll be safe with him, Angelina. He’ll take care of you. He’d do anything to make it good for you. I would go as far to say that no other man would be as gentle with you as Victorio would. You just need to trust him.”
“That’s the problem. I trust him. It’s me I’m worried about.”
“What are you afraid will happen?” she questions.
“I could have a panic attack. Hell, crying and screaming are possible. My memories might overtake me. I’m terrified of making a fool of myself and completely turning Victor off. I mean, nothing ruins the perfect moment like a full-blown panic attack and the woman screaming like a banshee.”
She tightens her hold on my hand and cups the side of my face.
“Angelina, I need you to listen to me. You just need to trust Victorio to handle whatever happens. I promise you he won’t let you down.”
“How do you know?” I’m desperate to believe her. I’m hoping she has magic words that will make me calm down—even if I know realistically it’s not possible.
“Because that man is in love with you, honey. He’d cut off his own hand to keep from hurting you. He wouldn’t even try to go there with you unless he was positive. You need to believe in him like he believes in you.”
“I wish I was as positive about this as you are,” I laugh, unable to keep the worry out of my voice.
“Let me ask you a question.”
“Okay.”
“When he was kissing you a bit ago, was panic anywhere in your head?”
“Well, no. I was kind of lost in the moment.”
She grins. “Just take a chance. I know in my heart that Victorio will make things okay. If you let him love you, honey, he’ll help you to erase the memories of that day with much, much better ones.”
I nod. I’m still scared, but Emilia has reminded me that Victor has always watched out for me. He won’t hurt me, and if I fail epically, he’ll get me through it. I’m still kind of sick to my stomach. It’s not because I doubt Victor—not at all. It’s because if I can’t be the woman he deserves, I have to let him go.
And I’m afraid that might kill me.
victorio
. . .
“Did you have a nice visit with Emilia?” I look at her as I ask the question. She’s been quiet since we came home. We cooked dinner together and she spoke here and there, but she’s been uncharacteristically quiet. I don’t know if it’s nerves because of everything we did last night and today, or if something else is bothering her. Is she having regrets? We kissed and made out, but I didn’t let it go too far. Is she worried? I need to figure out what is going on in that head of hers and fix it because I’m not letting her go.
“It was good. I don’t see how she can go much longer. If it was me, I’d be begging the doctor to induce my labor. She’s adamant that the baby will come out when he’s ready.”
“I know. We have a pool going on.”
“A pool?”
“Yeah, we’re betting on when she has the baby.”
“You are?”
“Yep. If she delivers on March twenty-third, I win the pot.”
“How much money is in the pot? Wait! March twenty-third?”
“Yeah,” I respond, grinning.
“That’s my birthday.”
“I know, Kitten. It happens to be my favorite day of the year.”
“It does? But why?”
“Because it’s the birthday of the woman who owns me.”
“Owns you?” she laughs. “Be serious, Victor.”
“I am, Gia. Did you think I was lying when I told you how I feel about you?”
“I don’t think you would lie to me.”
“Good.” We had been doing the dishes, cleaning up from dinner. I take the dish towel out of her hand. Her eyes follow me, but she doesn’t say anything or move. She’s waiting to see what I’ll do. That makes me smile. Once I put the towel on the counter, I pick her up, holding her against my chest, cradling her gently.
“What are you doing?” she questions me, but I notice she’s curling her body into me.
“You and I need to talk.”
“We’ve talked a lot today,” she points out.
“Okay, so now it’s time to explore our new boundaries.”
“We have boundaries?”