Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
The mere thought of my husband has obviously clouded my senses, because Ari tugs the bucket from my grip and waggles her eyebrows at me.
I make a face and stuff my mouth full of popcorn. It’s been three weeks since Eli shattered my world to pieces, ran me a bath, then made it clear he wants nothing emotional with me.
The process of hurt and comfort has been ongoing since then. He’ll fuck me into oblivion, but will not allow me to look at him.
He’ll bring me to the edge in every position possible as long as I’m not facing him. Against his desk, on all fours, sideways from behind, slumped against the edge of the tub. Once he walked in on me picking up a book and fucked me standing against the shelves.
It was hotter than my books, just saying.
He runs me baths afterward. Always. Without my having to ask. But he doesn’t join me.
He takes me to shows and dinners—mostly because I make him. He joins me when I’m in the theater room, though he couldn’t care less for my taste in films. He parades me around at events. He brings me flowers for all my performances that have become so common lately.
But he never lets his walls down.
It doesn’t matter how deep and raw his touch is, Eli’s mind is still way out of reach like a faraway galaxy that’s physically unattainable.
The only time I feel he loses some control is when his cock is pounding into me and driving me crazy. And yet, even then, he’s powerful and in absolute possession of his resolve. Sometimes, when I beg to see his face, I feel like he’ll flip me over, but he never does.
I hate myself for not being the same brand of cold he is.
But most of all, I hate that I crave his touch, that he knows all the right buttons to push to keep me coming back for more.
And yet every time he shoves me to my stomach so he can’t see my face, and every time he doesn’t share my bed, I feel a part of me ripping at the seams and falling away with the depressing finality of an autumn leaf.
We’ve been having sex regularly for the past few weeks, and by regularly, I mean every day. Sometimes, two or three times a day.
But I’ve never seen him naked. Not once.
The only time he got naked was after that first time we had sex and I couldn’t open my eyes to see it.
It’s been three weeks of constant mind-numbing orgasms that he makes sure I get before his, yet I don’t feel closer to him than before. At least, not on a deeper level like I’d like to.
Yes, our relationship is better than when I first woke up in the hospital. He’s more accommodating if I’m ‘reasonable’ and he does make time when I ask.
But it’s still not…enough.
And I guess I’m coming to the awful, hideous realization that this is the closest he’ll ever allow me to get.
Close enough to own, but not to like.
Close enough to eat what I cook, but not enough to let me within his walls.
Close enough to be in a marriage with benefits, but not enough to be in a real marriage.
“Ava?”
I lift my head at Mama’s voice. “Yeah?”
“You just looked a bit lost in thought. Is everything okay?”
Japanese dialogue fills the room for a beat before Ari shoves the candy floss tub in my lap. “You can have it. I don’t want it anymore.”
I smile softly at my sister. She’s always given up her things for me—like her favorite anime figurines, toy racing car, and fluffy key chain—in the hope that it’ll get me out of my moody phases.
It’s a habit she’s had since we were little, and even though she’s old enough to realize that tactic doesn’t really work, she still employs it religiously.
“Is it because I said you look different?” Mama asks. “It’s just about the vibe, and not anything physical.”
“Definitely physical. You’re glowing, sis. Bet you’re getting enough dick to use it as a facial.”
“Ari!” Mum scolds. “Don’t be so crude.”
I grow hot.
“OMG, Mama, look, she’s blushing!” My sister bounces while sitting. “Called it! Totally called it! Now, tell me, does he have the dick energy that matches his earth-shaped arrogance?”
“I will not dignify that question with an answer,” I say with a clearing of my throat.
“So he does! I knew it. Men like him and Remi are the personification of superior sexual energy. My theory is, it’s in the genes.”
I narrow my eyes. “I still haven’t forgotten about your episode with that bastard Remi.”
“What episode with Remi?” Mama asks with a raised brow.
“Hey, don’t go badmouthing my lord and savior.” She smacks me teasingly behind our mother’s back. “And, dear Mama, you know I’ll marry Remi. I told you so when I was, like, eleven, so don’t play oblivious.”