Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
It’s like I’m standing at a fork on a metaphorical road. To my left, there’s one path, probably the reasonable one. Go on with my life, pretend I didn’t witness Aunt Lucy’s affair, pretend I didn’t sense something ‘off’ with Enzo and Nico. Forget I ever had this hot, curious feeling for my uncle.
To the right, there’s pure craziness. I let myself obsess over the way Nico defended me. I indulge in fantasies of telling him about the affair, pressing my hand against his solid chest, looking up into his intense green eyes, and whispering, “Choose me instead…”
It turns out I might be nuts.
Me: What did Enzo mean when he called you ‘Barbarian’ and ‘Nightmare’? I text.
I don’t expect a response right away, especially after he left me hanging last time. Then my phone buzzes almost immediately. It’s two am. I guess he can’t sleep tonight, either. What’s he thinking about? What’s he doing? Who is he with?
Nico: I don’t know how his mind works, Arria. If I were you, I’d put this entire experience behind you.
Me: You don’t know how his mind works, but do you know why he used those words?
Nico: Am I under cross-examination? Anybody could see that he’s trying to dance around the question. Before I can reply, he continues.
Nico: Just be glad we could settle this out of court. Now, you can forget about him, forget about me, forget about all of it.
Me: How could I forget about you? You’re my uncle. We’ll probably see each other again at some point. Why would I never need to forget about you, Nico?
That I could let him go feels unfair and absurdly difficult. I might even say it was devastating if I wanted to be melodramatic—and honest—about it.
Nico: It’s late, Arria. You should be asleep.
Me: There you go again, savior, getting bossy.
Nico: You need to stop calling me that. I’m nobody’s savior. I never have been. That was a stupid article. It never meant a damn thing. I’m just a man who’s trying his best. Got it? That’s all I can do—I wake up each morning, do the best I can, fall exhausted into bed, wake up a few hours later, and repeat. Understand?
My mouth actually falls open, so it seems like I’m going for top melodrama points tonight—or this morning. But whoa, that response is wild. It’s like I can hear his husky tone and see him glaring at me with those electrifying eyes.
Me: You’re doing a good job, Nico. Everybody knows about your pro bono work. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I was just curious, that’s all. Nightmare and Barbarian. It was weird that he’d call you that.
Nico: Maybe he thought he was being funny.
Again, he’s dancing around it. At no point has he just come out and said he doesn’t know why Enzo said it.
Me: Do you remember that thing he said about us meeting for the third time, too? He was grinning at me as he said it. Almost like he was baiting me.
Nico: Like I said, maybe he was trying to be funny. Or perhaps he wanted to make you do what you’re doing now—lose sleep obsessing over it.
That’s not the only thing I’m losing sleep over, though. There’s also the fact that we’re not together when I want to be and the guilt that goes along with that.
Nico: I need to get back to work. Try to get some sleep.
I don’t reply. Petty? Maybe. Do I give a damn? Nope. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb mode and then place it on my desk on the other side of the room. It’s a desperate measure, but I know I’ll only end up checking it a bunch more times if I don’t.
Back in bed, I close my eyes and try to sleep. But trying to sleep never made sleep any more likely. I keep seeing my uncle standing in that office, his muscles looking like they might burst out of his suit. “That’s enough.” His voice had been a growl as he said that, filled with certainty and a hint of violence. It was almost scary. It was as if he was ready to do whatever it took to protect me.
I slide my hand down my body, knowing this is wrong and I’ll likely regret it in the morning. However, I can’t stop. I imagine him walking into my bedroom, peeling back the sheet, sliding his hand up my leg, and pressing down on my core. “You’re already wet for me,” he’ll say in that husky tone like he’s impressed, hungry. “You know this is wrong, Arria. I’m your uncle. We shouldn’t…”
“I know…”
I stroke my hand up and down my folds, over my clit, the pleasure coming much, much faster than I expected. It’s like I’m suddenly thrust into a fantasy. It’s like it’s his strong, confident hand gliding over me. He pushes his hand firmly against me, and then, suddenly, he’s shirtless, his muscles swelling. His eyes push me closer to the edge as they watch me.