Just One More Touch Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: W. Winters, Willow Winters Advertisement

Advertisement

I’ve never seen him like that.

I’ve never seen anyone like that.

I don’t like it. It was sexy as fuck in some ways. But it scares me. He scares me. I swallow thickly, closing my eyes at the realization.

I’ve always known he was a bad boy. I’ve only ever had glimpses though. I don’t like seeing it up close and personal. I don’t want it to be true.

We pull into Derek’s driveway, my thoughts paused as I wait with bated breath to get out.

I couldn’t tell him no. What’s worse is that, even with a hint of fear, I still want him. Maybe even more now than I did before.

He gets out first and I move to open my door, but he motions for me to stop.

Sagging back in my seat, I watch as he walks around the front of the car. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. I’m completely head over heels for him, even after what just happened. Ever since I walked away from him, I’ve never felt the way I had when we were together, and I’m terrified to lose it again. To never feel that way again for the rest of my life.

Fear of loss is making me cling to him.

I’m so fucked. This is all just fucked.

He opens my door and offers me his hand. I accept it with a soft smile although there’s hesitation in my action. I find myself looking at his knuckles, wanting to see if it’s the one he bruised and cut, but it’s not.

He squeezes my hand, and it calms me down. The door clicks shut, and the cold makes me unconsciously step even closer to him. He makes me feel delicate and protected.

This is the side of him that I know. This gentle side that treats me as if I deserve the world. This is the man I know, but there’s more to him.

I want to know all of him. Not just the small part he’s willing to show me.

I don’t know if he’ll ever open up though. The thought makes my heart pang in my chest.

Is it so bad that I want to help him? I feel like I can. Like it’s what I was meant to do.

But only if he’ll let me. He needs to want to change.

Right now’s not the time for that though.

I just want to hold him and for things to fall back into place.

Just for tonight.

I’m too conflicted to deal with all of this right now. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, or what the fuck I’m doing.

The sound of my heels clicking on the pavement is muted by the thin layer of fresh snow as we walk up the cement path to his front porch.

Once we get inside, Derek sets his keys down on the table to the left of the door. The white rectangular table almost blends in with the walls. He helps me out of my coat as I continue to look around. Slate floors lead into a hallway beyond the open staircase. The light from the glass and iron pendant chandelier glimmers on the walls and ceiling. His place is amazing.

But it’s drug money. My eyes close tight and my heart thuds to a halt. I think. I don’t know.

“Stop thinking about it, Emma,” he says as he hangs our coats on cast iron hooks by the door, as if he could read my mind just now. I don’t answer him, although for some reason I feel guilty.

He leads me up the open staircase. All the while I can’t look at him, my heart beating so fast. I’m too nervous to even touch the railing, although without his hand on my back I’m not sure I’d be able to walk steadily.

I know I have a choice right now, to stay and be with him, or to leave. I need to decide right now. But I can’t. I can hardly breathe. I hate that I’m just going with it, falling deeper into whatever it is we have. It’s all I’ve ever done, but it’s also all I want.

The black steel-frame lamp turns on automatically as we walk into the spacious bedroom. He lets go of my hand and walks into the en suite bathroom. I stare at the bed. It has to be a king with how large it is. The dark grey comforter has silver threading that gleams in the soft lighting. My heart thuds over and over again, the blood rushing in my ears.

I’m hot and ready for him. I want this. But it comes with so much. It means so much more to me.

And what does it mean to him?

“Make yourself at home,” he calls out as he turns on the faucet.

I slowly walk over and sit down in the navy armchair in the corner of the room, the bathroom and therefore Derek, visible from my seat.

Advertisement