Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Grabbing you.”
I chew the inside of my cheek for the briefest of seconds before I respond.
“You’ve held my wrists harder than that before.”
My declaration makes his eyes drop to my mouth. In a different world, one that didn’t include three kids in the same room, I could see this evening going much differently than I know it will. There was a shift in the way Vincent saw me that crazy night three years ago.
I saw the flash of attraction the second he walked into Carlen’s house after Mr. Clarke’s funeral. I could tell he fought against it, had a hard time believing the woman in front of him was Janet’s kid sister, the same one who tried to interject herself into everything she could. I was relentless, and in my mind, I was subtle in my flirting. Looking back, I know I was far from it, but he always handled those situations with grace and respect.
After the change, after the way he cut his eyes at me when no one else was paying attention, the very last thing I wanted from him was respect. I needed his hands on me, his mouth tasting my skin. I needed to know what his tongue felt like against mine, how it felt licking at my racing pulse point.
I got my wish, and I got Sutton out of that night. Even if the sex was bad, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. As hard as being a single mother has been, she’s worth every bump and bruise along the way. I’d do anything for that little girl. It’s why my argument was minimal when he demanded I leave Missouri and go with him to New Mexico.
“I was going to put her in the crib,” I say, trying my best not to lean into the thumb he’s moving gently back and forth on my cheek.
There’s a reverence to it that makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that he’s touching me. It’s simply that I’m not normally a receiver of kindness and comfort. I’m the one who always needs to be strong. I’m the one who’s depended on, not the other way around. I don’t know how to be that person, and I sure as hell don’t want to get used to something that will be taken away eventually.
I clear my throat and pick Sutton up from his chest, taking a step back.
He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, wordlessly standing and walking to the bathroom.
Sutton fusses a little when I bend to place her in the crib, but the second I pull the small travel blanket over her back, she calms. Honestly, the kids have been doing great during this trip. I fully expected bigger meltdowns and more attitude, but I’m glad Vincent hasn’t pressed our luck by making us travel incredibly long hours the last two days.
On the other hand, if he had, we’d be in New Mexico already and I wouldn’t be climbing into the second bed, wondering just how the damn night is going to go after I ran my mouth about his grip on my wrists.
If there was a way to curb my attraction to the man, I’d do it in a second. It will do nothing but complicate things and get in the way. His being in Sutton’s life isn’t an invite for him to be in mine in any other form than being her dad. Any notions I might have of being one happy family with three kids needs to be shut down. Even allowing myself to fantasize about something like that will only lead to disappointment.
Knowing I shouldn’t have any expectations and keeping them at bay are two very different things. I realize just how much I can’t control my emotions when Vincent gets out of the bathroom and does nothing but walk to the other side of the bed, pull the sheets back, and climbs inside.
He doesn’t reach for me. Hell, he doesn’t even bump into me on accident like he did last night. It means he’s being extra cautious about not touching me. It’s his answer to a question I didn’t even ask, and for some reason, it stings when it shouldn’t.
Although my eyes are closed, I can’t turn off my brain. I do my best to stay still, knowing my discomfort is more internal than the actual quality of the bed we’re on. It feels like hours go by, and I still can’t quiet my head enough to fall asleep. It’s going to make for a very miserable day tomorrow.
“I can practically smell your brain working.”
His voice places him closer to me than I realized he was, and it startles me.
“I can’t sleep,” I whisper, not wanting to wake the kids.
“You’re safe,” he promises. “I’m going to be here no matter what.”
I nod, unsure if he can sense the movement in the darkness.