Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
"You know I'm going back soon. In three weeks," I say, pulling away to look him in the eye. A part of me thinks this is all just temporary for him anyway. As soon as I leave, he'll have someone else. It's a small part though. If I really believed it, it would make ending this so much easier. If I thought I could just be replaced so easily by him. But I don’t think that. Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t want to believe it.
His hands pause on my waist, his fingers gripping me a little tighter. "Yeah," he says suspiciously, that wrinkle returning.
"And then what?" I ask. That’s really where my problem lies. I need to know.
"Well, it's only one semester, right?" he responds.
"Yeah." What is he thinking? I can feel that damn wrinkle on his forehead form on mine. My heart seems to beat so loud that I can’t hear anything else. I wish it would shut up. I need to hear what he’s saying.
"That won't be long. Just a few months, and we can handle that," he says hopefully.
"I just don't want to start something, and then you go and fuck around-" the words come out so fast. I can’t help it. It’s what’s in my head, and I need him to tell me it’s going to be alright.
He grabs my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. "I have never fucked around on you. I never will. I'm not interested in anyone else," he says, cutting me off. My breathing comes in faster.
"What is this between us?" I ask him. I stand up, pushing off his lap and getting out of his hold to put some space between us.
"I told you I want you." His voice is sincere as he grabs my hand, as if he needs to touch me to get through this.
"For now?"
He stands up and wraps his arms around my waist; I don’t deny him. "For however long we have." I hate that answer. I need something more than that, something concrete. But the way he says it reminds me of what he's going through. I have to close my eyes and try to focus on our conversation, but I can’t.
"Don't think about it, sweetheart. Just kiss me." His voice lowers as he pulls me closer to him.
I wish he would just say the words I’m thinking. I love you. It would make this so much easier. But that would be too good to be true. And I’m stupid for thinking it. For however long we have.
It’s so easy to do as he says. To just stop thinking. The way he presses his lips to mine makes me want to forget about everything and just be his for the moment and I take them greedily, needing to just get lost in his touch.
Just this moment.
His hot tongue slips against the seams of my lips and part for him, opening and letting him inside my mouth. His tongue strokes strong and heavily against mine possessively. His kiss is taking from me with everything he has. It’s a hot dark dance of our mingled breath.
As his hands roam my body, I realize that I’m enabling him. I’m allowing him to have me without any type of resolution. I’m weak because of him. I’m weak for him.
His fingers trail along my waist, tickling my skin and making me writhe under his touch. Such a soft touch. He’s always gentle at first; that’s how he gets me. He shows me the side of him that no one else can see.
It’s a side I’m addicted to.
“Lie to me, sweetheart,” Derek says as he pulls back, his eyes closed and his hot breath coming in quicker.
He lifts me up by the waist, walking the length of the small kitchen and setting me down on the counter. He kisses my neck gently as I register his words.
His lips barely press against the sensitive area just under my ear. That spot. He must know exactly what it does to me.
“Lie to you?” I ask. I’m surprised I can even talk, my heart’s beating so fast and I feel like I can hardly even think.
His deft fingers unbutton my jeans, and I let him. I don’t tell him no.
I can’t. I want this just as much as he does, even if we haven’t resolved a damn thing. He did say he’d never cheat on me. But how long is he mine to claim? And more importantly, when is he going to stop dealing? When is he going to straighten up his life?
I shake my head at the thought as he slips my jeans off my hips. He lifts my ass up off the counter and I have to lean against him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. The denim slides down my thighs and he lowers himself while he pulls them off, kissing my collarbone, down between my breasts, down to my hips. He stops at my thighs, tugging the jeans down my legs.