Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
It didn’t mean anything.
The biggest lie of all.
CHAPTER SIX
Mario
I roll over and reach for her. I like a good morning cuddle that leads to morning sex, and this woman has made all my fantasies—
The bed beside me’s empty. I open one eye and look to make sure, but it’s clear the rumpled sheets next to me mean she’s gone. I look first to the bathroom, but the door’s open and the light’s off. She isn’t in the room at all.
Fuck.
I sigh, right before I notice the door to the adjacent room’s slightly ajar.
Ahh. Smooth move. She likely knew opening that door then leaving through that exit would be quieter and give her a little more lead time to see if I woke.
Motherfuckin’ bourbon always kicks my ass. Always.
Not as thoroughly as Romeo will, though. Dammit.
I guess I’m not surprised that she’s gone. We both knew this was a one-night stand, which is partly why I tried to make it memorable. Not that I didn’t enjoy the fuck out of myself. I sure as hell did, goddamn the consequences.
I roll over onto my back and sigh. “Hey.” My voice echoes in the large room. The only response is the gentle ticking of the heat turning on in the room. I glance to the window. It’s cold and rainy outside.
I hope she’s warm. I hope she’s safe. I don’t like the idea of her going out in the cold and rain alone. It might be the twenty-first century, and something tells me that woman knows exactly how to take care of herself, so sue me if I like doing it, too.
I sit up in bed and wish I smoked. I could use a smoke right now. Would give my right nut for a joint.
I feel… stood-up. But nah. We both knew it was only for the night. There was never any assumption that anything more than sex was on the menu. Still… I would’ve liked to kiss her one last time.
I am a little surprised that I didn’t hear her. Any of my brothers would kick my ass for not being observant.
Fuck.
I’d shut off my phone and gone dark, which… yeah, I’m gonna pay for that when I resurface. But fuck does it get tiring having to be so goddamn responsible and all that shit. It’s been years. Fuckin’ years of having to be responsible and accounted for, tracked and watched. Protected. Everyone wants to be famous, everyone wants to be rich, but no one wants the price tag that comes with it.
I like one-night stands. I like long, memorable nights of fucking that don’t have any expectations tied to them. I like parting amicably in the morning and having the rest of my life ahead of me to choose what I want when I want it.
So why do I feel as if someone kicked my puppy?
A feeling I’m not accustomed to wells in my chest. It’s so foreign, I’m not sure what it is at first.
I enjoy life, every bit of it. I love sunny weather and rain, summer and winter. I love food and holidays, drinks and parties, my family’s pastries and hot espresso on a cold winter morning. I love everything life has to offer and leave whatever doesn’t entertain or excite me on the table. I love being alone, and I love being with crowds.
Shit don’t go down without a silver lining, always, and there’s never a time when I don’t have something amazing to look forward to.
I’m not used to feeling… let down. Depressed. Sad that a good thing’s come to an end.
Yesterday me would be glad to be rid of her, of not having a clingy babe on my arm looking for more attention or some shit like that. It’s a lot easier when they leave on their own and don’t make me be the bad guy. I can sometimes appease them with a good kiss, a parting gift, or a teasing swat to the ass and a promise of calling them soon (I never do.)
I like things… fresh. New.
Some of them leave easily and others are a bit more attached, but I’m always the one that has to do the work.
Except this time. Not this time. She left, and I never even learned her name. Why does that make a heaviness settle on my chest?
Why can’t I shake the feeling that there was something… different… something exquisite and remarkable about her?
I sit up in bed, frowning. My mouth’s dry as cotton, and my head pounds a little. I grab the bottle of water I left next to the bed and gulp half the bottle, but I barely pay attention to what I’m doing. I function on auto-pilot.
I don’t like that she left me. For once in my life, I wish that a woman had stayed.
I push myself out of bed and stand. Head to the vacant bathroom and use the facilities. Mentally try to wrap my brain around what happened and let it go. Trying to make the most of the situation.