Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“If things were different,” I said, hearing the note of desperation in my voice, “if the circumstances were anything other than what they are, I’d be on your doorstep right now. Actually, I’d probably already be in your bed.”
“It’s better that you’re not,” she said curtly. “Honestly, what’s the point? This can’t go anywhere. After this weekend, we probably won’t see each other again.”
“Yeah.” It was the truth, but it still made my chest cave.
“Well, I should get to bed.”
“Me too.”
“Have a safe trip back.”
“Thanks. Good luck with your business idea.”
“Thank you.” A few silent seconds ticked by. “Goodbye, Zach.”
“Bye.”
I ended the call and stared at my phone for a minute.
Then I deleted her number.
Then I lay there in the dark, telling myself I’d done the right thing, even if my room felt cold, lonely, and depressing.
Then I reminded myself that sometimes doing the right thing meant sacrifice. I’d always understood that, and I’d put myself in harm’s way countless times to protect others. In this case, I didn’t even have to risk bodily harm, I just had to give up one last night with her.
Then I got off the bed, grabbed my keys, and drove to her house.
CHAPTER 15
MILLIE
I was curled up on the couch, sipping a cup of tea when I heard the knock. At first, I thought I’d imagined it. I went still and listened.
Then I heard it again.
Right away, I knew who it was, and I honestly debated not answering. Only thirty minutes ago, we’d agreed that we should not see each other. He was the one who’d stated it first. And he was right. Not only was it wrong, but we’d risk someone catching him coming or going. Beyond that, the last thing I needed was to get hung up on Zach Barrett—my ex’s dad, who lived across the country, who’d already had a vasectomy because he’d never wanted kids in the first place, and who’d be a grandfather within a year.
But it could happen. It could easily happen.
He was gorgeous and protective and kind. He might not wear his heart on his sleeve, but I’d felt it beating hard against mine. He cared enough about the son he’d never known about to come here and try to make amends. He made me laugh. He made me feel good about myself. He gave me the kinds of orgasms I’d only read about.
He knocked again. Louder this time.
Turning the TV off, I closed my eyes. Inhaled and exhaled. If I answered the door, would I have the strength to turn him away?
I’d have to find it somewhere.
Rising from the couch, I realized with dismay that I was not looking my best. I wore no makeup, my hair had not been washed today, and I had on plaid flannel pants and a T-shirt so old that its original color was lost to memory. But whatever—maybe it was better this way.
My cats, who’d cautiously wandered into the hallway to see what the excitement was, looked at me expectantly. “I’m telling him to leave,” I whispered, grasping the door handle. “Now go away.”
They scurried back into the kitchen, and I took one more deep breath before pulling the door open.
There he stood. Tall and bearded and brooding and hot as fuck. My resolve weakened, but I stood firm. Allowed no hint of a welcoming smile.
“I wasn’t going to come,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “I didn’t want you to.”
The standoff lasted ten full seconds.
He lunged for me at the same moment I reached for him. I stumbled backward as his body slammed into mine, vaguely hearing the door bang shut behind him. We tore at clothing, our breath coming hard and fast, our kiss becoming more like a battle with lips and tongues and teeth as weapons. We tumbled to my living room floor, groping, gasping, growling, grinding. We were naked inside a minute. My back on the Moroccan wool rug. His chest above me. My nails clawing at his back. His cock driving into me with the force of a freight train.
We were loud and rough and quick—it seemed no time at all had gone by, no chance to stop and think, no opportunity to slow down and reconsider our decision before we were crying out with the release—our bodies refusing to be denied.
Afterward, Zach braced himself above me. “I want you to know, that wasn’t the plan.”
Irritated, I pushed at his chest. “Let me up.”
Surprised by my anger, he disengaged from my body. I scrambled to my feet, threw my T-shirt on, and hurried into the small downstairs half-bath, where I cleaned up and studied my face in the mirror. Matted hair, flushed face, puffy lips. I scowled at myself. I wasn’t even sure why I was so mad, but I was. I splashed some cold water on my face, patted it dry, and brought the towel out with me.