Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I lost track of time, submerged almost to my chin as I watched the stars break out across the sky.
At some point, my heavy eyes closed and I knew I should have gotten out and made the mad dash back to the house, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"Trying to pull an Ophelia, babe?" Byron's smooth voice broke into the quiet of the night, shocking my eyes open and making me lurch up in the water, my heart slamming hard in my chest.
Byron was standing right beside the hot tub, hands tucked into his suit pockets, watching me. I swallowed past the instinctive scream that rose up in my throat and tried to relax back into the tub. "I didn't fall out of a tree," I said, my voice a little edgy with surprise. I watched as his hands slipped out of his pockets and he shrugged out of his jacket, untucked his shirt and started to unfasten buttons. "What are you doing?" I asked, feeling my chest tighten as the shirt split open and showed a big chunk of skin for a moment while he worked his cufflinks off. He tossed them carelessly to the ground then pulled off his shirt.
"I'm coming in," he informed me, somewhat unnecessarily as he kicked out of his shoes and unfastened his belt and pants. Naked save for his boxer briefs, he took the final step toward the hot tub and climbed in. To my surprise, though, he didn't move toward me. He didn't pounce. He settled into the corner directly across from mine, leaning back for a second, and I swear I could see tension slowly leaving his body. His eyes opened and he tilted his head back down to look at me, the intensity there making my sex clench hard. "Come over here," he commanded, his tone soft, but deep.
And, well, there was no staying where I was. I pushed off of my side of the hot tub and moved toward him. As I got within arms-reach, he grabbed my hips and turned me, his arm folding across my belly and pulling my back against his chest. I hadn't excepted sweet from him. I expected the sex that would apparently leave me unable to move afterward. Granted, he'd given me little pieces of sweet before, but when it came down to it, I expected rough, hard, primal. That being said, I wasn't complaining.
"Relax," he commanded, his breath in my ear, and I slowly forced myself to lay back on him, sink into his body, enjoy the safe feeling of a man's strong body holding mine. "Did Ella try to talk you out of it?"
"Of course she did. Just like her mother tried to talk her out of this kind of thing when she was younger."
"Does it bother you, being motherless?"
I took a breath, mulling it over. Because the answer wasn't simple. At some points during my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood... yes. It had bothered me that I hadn't had a mom around to French braid my hair or show me how to apply makeup or explain tampons to me or tell me their 'first time' story like everyone else I knew. "Sometimes, yeah. Mostly just because of the girl stuff I never got to learn from her. But in most ways, no. My father was always overflowing with love to give. He poured it into me until I overflowed too. I was never wanting for love or attention missing from only having one parent around."
"You've never been in contact with her?"
I shrugged. "She moved on. I used to get birthday cards up until I was eighteen with gift certificates."
"Then she just stopped?"
"Well, I never wrote back. I guess I never forgave her for leaving my dad."
"And you," Byron prompted.
"Not so much me, I guess. He really loved her. He was just... sick, you know?"
"Was it because Mack was a complete fuck up that you learned to always be so self-sacrificing?"
"You say that like it is a bad thing to be."
"It is if it's at the expense of your own happiness, babe."
"I've been happy," I half-lied.
"Babe..." he said and I could actually hear the sarcastic smile in his tone.
"I have. I mean, not blissfully so. Having some pennies to rub together after paying my bills would be nice. But I've gotten by just fine. I don't need fancy stuff to have a good life."
"No," he agreed, his free hand starting to trail up the side of my thigh, chaste by any means, but it was sending off shock waves to my system. "But when was the last time you could buy some fancy chick coffee shit without feeling guilty? Or go on a vacation? Or got your nails done or go out to eat..."
"There are plenty of people without your means who live good lives, Byron."