Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"And fucked it up, yeah, Mack. I know the story. The thing is... I don't think you do."
"You don't think I know what?"
"The story," I clarified.
"About how you used me and tried to kill me? Roan, I know the fucking story. I have the scars." Something about how she said that last word implied that she didn't just mean the ones on her body.
I knew I deserved the slice of pain that stabbed through me.
But that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.
"You know a small part of the story," I clarified. "I get that I have no right to ask you to hear me out. And I know you have your mind made up about me. But I am asking that you listen. And then I am asking that you talk."
"Talk about what?"
"Talk about what happened to you. After."
"I don't owe..."
"I'm not saying you owe me anything. I'm just asking, Mack. You can tell me to fuck off. You can tell me to move out of your way. You can tell me you don't want to hear my side. You can hear me out, then tell me I don't deserve to hear your story. The ball is in your court here. Make your move."
With that, I stepped out of her way, made room for her to pass me if she wanted to.
For a second, I was sure she was going to do just that, push past me, reject everything I had offered, start her new life.
But then she glanced upward, watching me for a long moment with eyes that were so much harder to read than they used to be.
"Fine. You want to talk, talk," she declared, turning her back on me, tossing the duffle on the floor near the island, going around it to fish the coffee can out of the cabinet, this time not to try to stab me with a knife inside it, but to actually start to brew a pot, then taking two mugs out of another cabinet.
She didn't turn back until the pot filled, until she poured two mugs, until she added milk and sugar to mine. And hers. Then passed one across the island to me where I had sat down.
She leaned back against the counter, cradling her mug. "Talk," she invited again.
- PAST -
Roan - 15 years ago
I took her to lunch.
The same place I did the first time.
We ate herb-stuffed bread.
We had yogurt drinks.
I tried not to seem like anything was off. I tried not to let her see the chaos coursing around in my system, the way my brain knew what had to be done, that I had very little - if any - choice, that this was the plan all along. But also the way every-fucking-thing else inside of me said this wasn't right, this was not what I wanted, this was going to hurt more than I knew was possible.
"You're quiet," she accused softly as we stood to make our way back to the bank.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Have a lot on my mind," I told her, not lying as I rose my arm to wrap around her shoulders, hauling her closer to me. There was no hesitation as her arm went around my lower back, as her head rested on my chest, even though it made walking more awkward. Just wanting to be close to me.
Fuck if I didn't know how that felt as I gave her a squeeze, leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
"Should I come by your hotel later?" she asked as we climbed the steps to her work.
"I, ah-" Fuck, this was going to be harder than I anticipated. "I don't know what time I am going to get in tonight. I have some plans with some contacts."
"Oh, alright," she said, forcing a smile, though the disappointment was shining through. "No problem. I should probably do some laundry, call my parents, all the stuff I have been putting off lately," she said, shrugging it off. "Thank you for lunch," she added, pressing her front to mine, reaching up to touch the side of her face a second before she sealed her lips to mine.
I should have made it short, made it less intense, maybe it would have made it easier to walk away.
But my hands wrapped around her, held her so tightly that I was worried she wouldn't be able to breathe, but I couldn't seem to make myself let go as my lips slanted over hers again and again, as my tongue moved inside, as my hands roamed over her back, sank into her ass, as she whimpered against my lips before I finally broke away, felt her face bury in my neck, planting a sweet kiss there.
"I don't want to go back to work," she grumbled, sighing out her breath. "And now you've doomed me to a night of domesticity, you monster," she told me playfully, not a single clue that she was actually right. I was a monster. Something she would find out soon enough. "Alright, I have to get back. I'll see you later," she told me, with certainty, before plating a quick kiss to my lips, and rushing off toward the doors.