Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Whenever the end may be. No matter how it ends.
His fingers grip each arm of the chair, then ball into fists.
And he looks at me.
Every inch of his face softens, and with it, I soften too, relaxing, seeing the fight leave him and free me. With no prompt, I approach him, bending and resting my palms on his thighs, lowering to my knees between his legs. He looks down at my hands and places his on them, lacing our fingers, squeezing, watching, before sitting forward and hooking his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me into him, his face hiding in the crook of my neck, his breath hot on my skin. My body comes to life. I feel life in him too.
I move my hands onto his bare chest, feel my way around his back, and hold him tight. Get us as close as physically possible.
It’s quiet but so fucking loud. And despite knowing I could be walking into an absolute nightmare, I can’t help but feel like the nightmare will be worse if Brad isn’t there with me.
23
BRAD
* * *
I’m so done with this fight. I’m out of restraint. Out of energy. And as she clings to me, relief drowns me. I listen to her breathe, listen to the track for . . . God knows how many times it’s been. I clench my eyes closed and slide my hand into her hair, gripping it hard. I can’t ignore the ache inside anymore. Can’t cast it aside as nothing. It’s something.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear, my grip of her hair getting harder. “I just can’t stop.”
She doesn’t speak, only nods, telling me she understands, as she strokes her way across my back, feeling me. I revel in the new, pleasurable feeling of a woman’s warm, soft hands on my flesh. Welcome it.
Enjoy it. Because it’s her. Only her.
Securing my hand over her nape, I encourage her out. Her eyes search mine. For what? Hesitation? Like I said, I’m done with this fight. “Get off your knees,” I order gently, helping her to her feet, resting back on the chair and pulling her onto my lap. I never want her on her knees for me. Begging for me. Subservient to me. Not like every other woman I’ve had. Pearl’s different. She triggers feelings—feelings I’ve not had before. Something beyond physical pleasure. So young but so strong. I know I have to ask her questions. She knows she has to answer them. But right now, I just need this moment of clarity. Of acceptance, because I’m experiencing the same level of relief I felt when I first succumbed to this madness.
Pearl straddles me, and I cup her ass, pulling her closer, resting my head back. She eyes the bandage. “What do you want to do, Pearl?” I ask, my voice gruff and loaded with unstoppable need.
Her chest expands, her gaze flicking to my room, and I clench my eyes closed. “The sheets haven’t been changed.” Regret and shame grip me. I’m not putting her in a bed where I fucked a nobody last night without at least changing the sheets. I open my eyes and find a faint smile curving her lips, and it’s fucking stunning. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, framing her face with my hands, pulling her closer as I sit up. Up until this moment, there have been two people in this world I’ve never wanted to disappoint. My mom. And my uncle.
Now there’s three.
“Don’t be sorry,” she murmurs, rolling her body into mine, forcing me into controlled breathing. “I know who you are, Brad.” She kisses me, her chest pressing into me, pushing me back into the chair.
And I’m lost. Floating.
I know who you are, Brad.
No judgment. No malice.
Just . . . understanding.
I no longer feel heavy, but . . . light.
I wouldn’t say I’m particularly damaged. I’m sure a therapist would disagree given both of my parents’ deaths, given where I am now, what I do, how I do it. But as I kiss Pearl, drink her in, appreciate the light, I realize I’ve deprived myself over the years. Depended on our status and work to distract me from my tragedies. Almost felt guilty grieving, because I had Danny and I had Carlo, and they were without question the most stable things in my life.
Danny still is, but he has his own family now.
And I have never felt . . . this.
I drop my head back to accommodate Pearl’s height on me, sliding my hand into her hair, surrendering to the chemistry. There’s not a chance I’m going to be able to keep myself from the mind-bending pleasure I know she gives me, and as our kiss deepens, firm but slow, all I can think about is watching her—watching her while I slide into her, this time knowing I am literally going where no man has gone before. Only me.