Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
It was a tight, coiled sensation that took over my sex, core, then chest, neck, my arms and legs.
My entire body felt tense, poised for something.
My breath felt caught in my chest for a moment.
And then the waves of pleasure crashed through me, making me cry out, my whole body shuddering hard with the intensity that had me leaning into Atlas, and burying my face in his neck.
I felt like I was in a daze for a while afterward, finding a strange disconnect from my mind and body.
I came back to myself slowly, bits at a time.
Touch first, feeling the way Atlas’s hand was gently sifting through my hair.
Then the smell of him overwhelmed my senses.
After that, it was the sound of gunshots on the TV, mingled with the thump of my own heart, still frantic as a bird’s wings.
I saw nothing because my eyes stayed closed, enjoying the floating sensation in my chest.
But then, well, my stupid brain got involved.
Oh, God.
Why had I done that?
In general. Because I’d sworn off men.
But also, in particular, with Atlas?
This man I had to continue living with for the foreseeable future.
I mean, yes, on the one hand, I wanted him. I’d wanted him almost since the moment I’d seen him.
But it was too complicated.
Too sticky.
I was staying in his home. I had nowhere else to go. And he was stuck there until he recovered as well.
If things went sideways, what would happen?
Would he kick me out?
Where would I go?
Sure, I had money saved. And since Kingston refused to accept rent from me when Atlas was home, I had a little extra leftover. But I’d sunk that into my brakes and tires.
If Samson and I were kicked out, I wouldn’t have enough money to pay for the first, last, and security on a new place. And short-term housing usually didn’t allow for dogs.
What was left?
Living in the car?
My heart sank, remembering when I was approved by Kingston for the house, how I promised Samson we would never, ever live out of the car again.
Those had been the hardest weeks of our life.
I’d been prepared for how uncomfortable it would be to try to sleep in the car, how difficult it would be to shower and find places to park.
I hadn’t anticipated how incredibly vulnerable I felt. How unsafe I actually was with nothing but a car door or window between me and the ill intentions of bad men.
Sure, I’d found window covers, to prevent anyone from actually watching me sleep. But the covers themselves were evidence that someone was sleeping in the car. And if someone was paying attention to me before I put them up, of course they would know it was a single woman in there.
Sure, I had Samson with me.
But, well, he was never meant to be a personal protection dog. He lived up to his Lab/Golden-mix DNA. Meaning he was overall friendly, even to strangers.
The only time I’d ever heard him snarl was in his dreams.
If someone broke into the car, I unfortunately believed that he would be all tail waggly to the man who would attempt—or succeed—to hurt me.
Most nights, I slept very little because every slam of a door or crunch of something snapping on the ground outside of the car had my heart flying into my throat, had me sure I was about to be raped, murdered, and left in a ditch somewhere.
I was less worried, as a whole, for Samson. If anything, he was kind of living the high life, since being in your car all the time was miserable, so we spent most of it outside of the car. Walking nature paths, exploring new towns, playing in lakes or rivers.
He was usually over the moon all day, then absolutely exhausted at night.
The problem was, because of Samson, working was hard. And not having a steady job meant that I couldn’t get us out of the car.
It was only thanks to the flier on a community board at a coffee shop in Navesink Bank that I finally saw an opportunity for a different life.
A full-time position at a doggy daycare.
I’d gone to the interview and asked if I could enroll my own dog in the daycare, so he could come with me. Would it cut into my pay? Sure. But it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for a chance to make a big change for us.
Luckily, the daycare’s owner explained that, no, I couldn’t enroll Samson. That friendly and well-behaved dogs of the employees were allowed to hang out at the daycare, free of charge.
It was like I’d won the lottery.
We were still living out of our car for several weeks after I started work there. Before, one fateful day, I saw the listing for the house rental.
I really don’t think I even realized how trying the whole ordeal had been until I’d been handed the keys, then closed a door complete with deadlocks, and knew I was finally safe.