Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He shakes his head. “Maybe we should talk about expectations.”
“I expect to come,” I tell him.
He chuckles but doesn’t draw closer to me.
“I want to be brutally honest with you.”
I stiffen before dropping my arms at my sides.
This is the part where he tells me that he’s okay with sex, but he isn’t the type of man to get involved with anything serious.
“Honesty,” I say, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. “That’s like a bucket of fucking cold water poured over my head.”
“I’m fucked in the head,” he says as I sit on the end of the bed.
“Aren’t we all?” I mutter.
“I enjoyed some of what I did to you back in Mexico.”
I meet his eyes. “I came, too.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not talking about pleasure that was forced from my body.”
I swallow, wondering how and when he had the ability to get inside my thoughts.
“I’ve fought myself about that very same thing,” I confess. “I’m not saying I wanted it, but I’m glad it was you. Does that even make sense?”
He swallows as he inches closer. “I don’t understand any of it.”
“I don’t either.”
“I can’t let go of this feeling that we’re—”
“Meant for each other,” I finish for him.
His nod, the acceptance of what it means, makes a rush of cold chills cover every inch of my body.
“I’m not a dreamer. I’ve never wasted time on thinking about my future,” he says. “If anyone asked me two months ago how I saw my story ending, I would’ve told them alone and probably too soon.”
I swallow, knowing what he means. I always thought of my life being different, but I had no plans to do anything to change the trajectory of it.
“How fucked up is it that I believe to my core that what happened to us was meant to happen to us?”
I stand as he inches closer. “I’d say then that maybe it was all worth it.”
“That’s fucking horrible,” he says.
“I know.”
We don’t say another word. He bends his head, his mouth finding mine, his tongue not wasting another second before swiping over mine.
I gasp when he grips a handful of my hair, jerking my head back.
The sizzle of electricity I’ve felt so many times with him near comes back full force. This situation between us isn’t perfect, fated or not. I know we’re going to argue. There will be times I’ll throw what we’ve done, how we’ve hurt each other, in his face. I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll blame him as much as I blame myself. I know he’ll probably do the same, but if we come back together like this, then I think we’ll be okay.
And if we sizzle out, if the fire that burns between us is doused and nothing is left behind but smoke fading in the air, then I think I can be okay with that as well.
All I know, is right now, in this moment, Nash is who I need. He’s who I want. He’s who I choose.
For the longest time, I focused on what I didn’t have. I fixated on what I lost, but I realize now that I was barely living. I was just going through the motions until I was forced to take a look at my life and what I valued.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he growls against my mouth. “Get naked, because if I try to undress you, I’ll rip this shit from your body.”
He takes a step back. As much as I want to tell him that’s exactly what I want, I’m a reasonable person. I only have two sets of clothes after all.
I watch, my hands working to pull my shirt over my head, as he works open the zipper of his jeans.
My body is thrumming with need, an ache so deep inside of me that I know having him there is the only thing that will sate it, if only for a little while.
I don’t concern myself with the psychology of why we’re like this with each other. I don’t care if it’s because of the pain we’ve endured together and because of the other. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense or if others would call it toxic.
I need him. He needs me.
It’s as simple as it has to be.
Neither of us answer to anyone but ourselves, and that’s what makes this perfect.
We have a million reasons to walk away from each other. It takes bravery to stay.
“Fuck,” he snaps, his hands working faster to pull off his shirt as he kicks his boots off one by one.
His erection juts toward me, as I shove the sweats down my hips.
“Taking too long,” he grunts as he steps forward and pushes me to my back on the bed, my shoes still on, and the sweats a tangle around my calves.