Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
But I couldn’t stay another second around her. I’d explode, and she’d get caught in the blaze.
As I enter the clinic, a bell rings, and Brian raises his eyes to see me. “Hi, Luca.”
I like Brian. He’s a good kid. And I happen to need some distraction right now. Because as soon as my mind is idle, images of Sarah in the throes of an orgasm fill my imagination. If I’m not careful, I could end up with an obvious boner tenting my jeans when Sarah walks out here.
“Hey, Brian. Is Sarah going to be done soon?”
“She was done ten minutes ago. Then Mrs. Ellis came in here, and now they’re talking inside.”
“Mrs. Ellis?” I frown. “You mean Donna?”
“Yeah. Sarah’s mom.”
“Does she drop by often?”
“Not really.” Brian pauses. “I keep a log of all patients and visitors if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested,” I say quickly.
Brian rifles through his files and hands me a notebook. As I look through the list, Donna bursts out of the exam room.
She makes it halfway to the front door before she notices me in her periphery. I almost laugh when she does a double take. Her eyes fill with anger and hate.
“You!” Donna marches up to my nose, pointing a bony finger at me.
I raise an eyebrow at her. I have no idea what her problem is today.
“I’ve got my eyes on you,” she says as she sticks out two fingers, then points at her own eyes and my face.
“Okay,” I say calmly. I know she’s trying to ruffle my feathers. It’s not going to work.
Just like I expected, Donna’s face reddens with wrath. She narrows her eyes at me before she huffs and dramatically turns around. The bell above the door rings as Donna walks out of the clinic.
When Sarah finally comes out into the waiting area, she looks sober. She doesn’t say “hi” to me when she sees me; she avoids my gaze instead. We walk in silence out of the clinic and get into my black 1986 Mazda RX7.
I was dreading the moment we have to talk again because I didn’t know how to face her, but this silence is even worse than her usual deluge of questions. Even though Sarah’s quiet, the drive home doesn’t feel as relaxing and peaceful as it usually does.
This is excruciatingly uncomfortable. I can’t stand watching her like this, just staring blankly out the car window as the town rushes by.
“Something on your mind?” I ask.
“No.”
If she’s trying to punish me for my one-word answers, it’s working. I’m all kinds of concerned for her now. “Did your mom say something to upset you?”
Sarah pauses before she says, “No.”
“Or was it Martin?” I ask, recalling the name I saw on Brian’s notebook. Peter’s told me about a Martin once. Sarah’s ex-boyfriend.
Sarah turns to look at me, but she says nothing.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you still spying on me?”
“Huh? No. Brian showed me his list of patients and visitors.”
“Oh.” I could be wrong, but she sounds kind of disappointed. “I liked it when you were stalking me. It was hot.”
I groan. I swear, she makes me want to jam my dick in her mouth sometimes. The things she says . . .
“Were you jealous, when you saw that Martin had seen me? I don’t remember telling you about him. I wasn’t even aware you knew about him.”
“No,” I answer simply, ignoring the blazing heat spreading in my chest. Honestly, I don’t know either why I remember about Martin—it’s probably been years since Peter last mentioned him—and I can’t explain it.
Maybe I am jealous.
No. Not jealous.
Possessive.
Something primal within me believes Sarah’s mine, and I don’t share what’s mine.
Problem is, I know logically that Sarah’s decidedly not mine.
“Did my brother tell you about Martin?” Sarah asks. Now that I’ve got her going, it seems she’s not stopping.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember,” I answer, honestly this time. We’re almost home, and soon I can hide away from her questions.
“You know . . . My brother told me not to come home to see him because it wasn’t that serious and the doctors said he was going to be okay in no time.” Her voice cracks and she grows quiet. She takes a deep breath. “He told me not to worry. Told me everything was fine.”
“Sorry,” I say as my chest pangs with pain for her.
I tried to persuade Peter to change his mind about not letting Sarah see him, but he wouldn’t budge. He was so stubborn. He’d set his mind to a plan and he was going to carry it out, no matter what.
I can’t completely blame him, though. There were . . . let’s say extenuating circumstances.
“I don’t need apologies,” Sarah says quietly. “Peter left me a stupid apology letter. He said he didn’t want me to see him all sick and weak. He said he didn’t want me to remember him that way.”