Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
She's wrecking me, and she doesn't even know it. The way she takes me, begging for more. The way she defies me and teases me with that smart-ass mouth. The shit she said about her fuck-up of an ex and her desire for stability. The way she slept against me, pressed so close I still feel her in my arms even now…it's all fucking with my head.
She thinks this ends in two weeks. I never should have agreed to that. I don't want pieces of her. I want every inch of her.
A wave breaks over the lip of my board, flinging cold water in my face. I turn my back and glance behind me. The condo is a speck in the distance, standing barely visible in the murky, early morning light. Deciding I'm out far enough, I turn away from the condo again and watch the waves rolling in. The closer the storm moves, the larger they grow. I probably shouldn't be out here alone, but I don't give a fuck about that either.
I can still smell her on me. Taste her on my tongue. Her breathy moans still ring in my ears. I want her again. Even out here, in an endless ocean of cold water, all I can think about is sliding back inside her. She took everything I gave her yesterday, letting me fuck her raw. She may have begged for more, but she needs a break. And I need to burn off energy because I don't want to stop.
Without even trying, she's in my head. I think she's always been in there. And the fucked up thing about it? I'm pretty fucking certain that fact would send her running if she knew. I see it in her eyes. That sadness. The fear. She may not miss her ex, but she's terrified to be that vulnerable again, especially with me, I think. That shouldn't piss me off, but it does.
She said we never talked, and she's right. We didn't talk. I knew better than to get in any deeper with her. But I listened to every word she ever said when I was near her. I fucking ate it up like I was starving. I've been fascinated by her since day one. For four years, I told myself I just wanted her body. I said it over and over until even I started to believe it.
It was a fucking lie.
I want every piece of her. I want her stripped raw. I want to own her. Consume her.
I want to fucking devour her.
And she'd run like hell if she knew.
"Fuck!" I yell.
The wind snatches up the sound of my voice and rips it away. I paddle out a little bit further, fighting against the waves instead of working with them, letting the water wear me out and calm a little of the turmoil raging inside. Being with Mila has me questioning things I've never questioned. She has me craving shit I shouldn't.
With her, I've always surfed a thin line, trying like hell to keep my balance. Now that I've been in her, I'm on the verge of falling. Hell, I want to fall. That scares the shit out of me, and I have no fucking clue what to do about it.
When I finally feel like I can breathe through the chaos in my mind, I settle in to wait.
It's not long before the next wave looms up ahead of me. It's a massive wall of water, and I want it.
I get into position, line myself up, and let it take me.
My board flies through the water. The wind is fierce, stinging my eyes. The turmoil inside my mind quiets for a minute, falling away beneath the roar of the ocean. The water is alive beneath me, a massive, wild animal. I don't try to tame it. Only an idiot thinks he can defeat something so powerful, so electric.
I'm far from stupid.
I know surfing isn't about winning. It's not about defeating the water. Surfing is about acknowledging something bigger than you. It's asking for permission to feel a little of that raw power, of that almighty fury, for yourself. For a minute, for as long as you can hold yourself steady and stay the course, you get to be more. Not equal to the water, not bigger than the wave, but part of it. And that? That's intoxicating.
I take deep breaths in and out. For just a minute, a split second really, I feel peaceful, quiet. When my board wobbles, my footing off by the smallest bit, I realize I felt those same things last night too. When Mila pressed her sweet little body up against mine and whispered goodnight, I felt complete.
I lose my balance and wipe out, falling hard.
When I make it back to shore, she's standing on the deck in nothing but my t-shirt. It swallows her up, hitting her at the knees. The wind whips her hair around her face. She looks beautiful. And I'm done fighting. Done raging against whatever the fuck she's doing to me. Whatever happens, whatever this is, I want it. I just have to figure out how to make her want it, too.