Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I’d fuck you again. A few times.”
“You can do that at your age?” I teased.
“Not a problem,” he growled. “You want more? It’s yours.”
“Well, that settles it. You’re staying, big man.”
His chest rumbled, and for the second time that night, I found myself trapped under his heavy body.
“Good choice, Red. Good choice.”
I woke up alone. Slowly, I sat up, squinting at the clock on the night table. It was almost seven. The last time Reynolds had woken me up, it had been five. He had taken me differently that time—slow and gentle, rocking into me from behind, his voice low and gruff as he brought me to a powerful climax. He had kissed me for a long time after, then slipped from bed. Exhausted, I had fallen back asleep, assuming he would return. I recalled the sound of a door closing in my sleep-addled mind—and I realized he had probably never returned to the bed, but left quietly, saving us both the awkwardness of a long goodbye in the morning.
That’s what he’d been doing earlier—saying goodbye with his body instead of words. I ran a hand through my hair and stretched, feeling aching muscles from last night protest as I moved. I looked around the room, feeling a strange sense of loneliness. I realized I was leaving this morning to start a new job, but it wasn’t that far away. I thought I had felt a connection with Reynolds, and he with me. I had hoped he would want to exchange numbers, perhaps get together once I was settled.
I sighed and flung back the blanket. Obviously, I thought wrong. It was a one-night stand. The closeness I felt with him was just sex. He was experienced enough to know that and had left. He was right to have gone. I had liked him—really liked him. He was intelligent and funny. The sexiest man I had ever met—or slept with. He had been an incredible lover—giving, in control, and his kisses left me breathless. I had even liked the way he called me Red—drawing it out a little as if he was caressing the word with his tongue. He made me feel safe, cared for, and even sexy. All with a touch and some softly spoken words.
My heart ached a little, as if it felt it had lost something.
I stood, shaking my head. What an odd thought.
Chapter 7
MAXX
I finished the job I had been working on and wiped my greasy hands on the cloth. For the millionth time that morning, I tried not to think of the way my hands had felt against the soft skin of Red’s body. I shook my head. Charlynn. Nicknames suggested familiarity. A relationship. I had never been one for nicknames, so why that one came so easily, I had no idea, but I had to stop thinking about Charlynn as Red.
In fact, I had to stop thinking about her altogether.
I had hated to leave her this morning, fighting an odd sensation that pulled me toward her once I was dressed and getting ready to walk out the motel room door.
She was beautiful in the dull morning light, her brilliant hair spread over the pillow, her body supple and relaxed under the blankets.
I smiled as I recalled one of our murmured conversations in the night.
“Tell me a secret,” she whispered against my throat.
“I don’t do secrets,” I replied.
She ignored me. “I hate the wind.”
I frowned. “The wind? You’ll hate living around here, then. There is always a breeze.”
“No,” she replied, snuggling closer, my arms pulling her tighter, seemingly of a mind of their own when it came to her. “Wind. Like during the storm when it drives itself against the window, making it shudder, trying to get inside.”
“Ah. Any reason why?”
“No, just always have. I don’t tell people because they think I’m weird.”
There was silence. I could feel her waiting, hoping.
“I idolized my father,” I said quietly. “I miss him every day—and sometimes I talk to him like he is still there.”
“When did he die?”
“Two years ago. My mother died in January, and he followed about six months later. He couldn’t bear to live without her.”
“That’s beautiful. Two souls so tightly connected they need each other to survive.” She paused. “I’m sorry you lost them.”
I didn’t say anything but pressed a kiss to her head. She was almost too sweet to be true. I could feel her empathy in her sincere words, and it made me feel oddly vulnerable. I cut off any more conversation by kissing her.
Even now, standing in my garage, I could feel the warmth of her against me.
I had watched her for a few moments, the urge to wake her and ask for her information nagging at me. But I resisted. There would be no more relationships for me. I had learned my lesson.