Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
He cocked his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed just a smidge, like he was truly surprised by that response. “I remember who I was at twenty-three. I had to grow up fast, but even then, I was still a child in many ways.”
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“Because a twenty-three-year-old woman is too young for me.”
“To fuck?” I asked incredulously.
His eyes narrowed farther. “You think all we’re doing is fucking? I made it clear—”
“This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
He seemed on the verge of getting angry, but he swallowed it back and kept the calm. “Help me understand.”
“Look at you.” I gestured from his shoulders to his fat dick between his legs. “You could have anyone, have as many girls as you want at once, and you’re choosing to spend your time with me, a woman about to be divorced and almost thirty. It just seems a little unbelievable sometimes.”
He stared at me long and hard, the sound of the falling water fading out in the tension. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“I’m not crazy—”
“You’re fucking crazy. Crazy to let that asshole steal your confidence. Crazy to let that idiot strip you down to a hollow shell of insecurity. Let me tell you something about men, sweetheart. They cheat because they cheat. It’s as simple as that. His gaze didn’t wander because you were less than, because your ass wasn’t hard enough or your tits weren’t perky enough.”
“I appreciate that, but that has nothing to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with it. Because there’s no fucking way that a woman who looks like you could possibly question her worthiness otherwise. Why would I want a woman ten years younger than me when I can have you? A woman who’s intelligent, experienced, speaks her mind, whose sass hits harder than a goddamn bullet.” He grabbed me by the throat like he was about to slam me to the floor. “You’re. Fucking. Crazy.” He squeezed me before he let go. He turned off the shower then stepped out, pulling the towel off the rack and drying himself quickly.
I followed him and stood on the bath mat, soaking wet because I didn’t have a towel.
He tossed me his when he was finished.
“Look, I just mean—”
He turned back to me, sexy with his damp hair a mess from the towel. “I thought we were done with this.”
“I just think someone like you would be one of those guys who never wants to commit or settle down because you don’t have to.”
His furious eyes stared into mine like I offended him.
“That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re right. That’s exactly who I was.” His eyes remained on mine, still furious and hard in intensity, like he was about to snap and scream at me. The silence trickled between us, but instead of letting the intensity disperse, it only got worse. I saw a slight tremor in his body, a tightness in his neck that nearly snapped the cords under the skin. “Until I met you.”
A wave of raw emotion swept through me, a combination of so many different feelings that I couldn’t tell them apart. I was touched by the words and the affection packed behind them—and I was fucking scared.
“You asked me, sweetheart.”
“I said I’d rather not say, and you pushed.”
“You want honesty, and that’s a two-way street.”
“I know what I said—”
“Ask me how I feel about you.”
“Bastien, this is going way too fast—”
“It’s going exactly the pace it’s supposed to,” he said. “Now, ask me.”
I knew what he would say, and while those words would bring me unimaginable joy, they would also bring a vulnerability I couldn’t handle right now. I was becoming thinner, weaker, and more transparent by the day—and infinitely more fragile.
When he knew I wasn’t ready, he turned away and walked out of the bathroom.
Once I was alone, my breaths grew deep and labored, the danger gone but the fear profound. I waited a minute or two before I stepped into the bedroom, seeing him dressed in only his sweatpants. Sunlight continued to come through the open curtains and highlight the elegant bedroom fit for a ruler.
He stepped into the other room, probably to sit on the couch and watch TV.
I didn’t know if I should get dressed and leave…or stay. He seemed to have shut me out, so I wasn’t sure. Instead of getting dressed and making assumptions that might piss him off, I approached him on the couch. “Should I go?”
He didn’t look away from the TV, which was on now. His muscular back was to me, the dark ink a distinct contrast against his fair skin. His body was still, like it didn’t draw breath the way mine did. “I never want you to go, and you know that.”
The weekend came and went, and I was back to the daily grind of a regular person. Being at my desk before nine, eating my lunch by myself, walking home at five, sometimes in the rain.