Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
He pulled me tight against his chest and rocked back and forth, one hand on my head, the other flat against the center of my back. I put my arms around his torso and held tight, feeling him pull me tighter, feeling his mouth on my head. He said nothing but he kept rocking back and forth with me, kissing my head over and over, squeezing me reassuringly. He said nothing, I said nothing. I had a feeling that there would be plenty to say when we were alone.
A while later, I don’t know how much later, the car stopped and I jolted awake. I had fallen asleep against him, feeling like his scent and his arms were a warm blanket around me. He carried me, cradled in his arms in through a gate, and then up a walkway to a large light-colored house with all the outside lights on. Once inside, the interior’s light was blinding. I squinted and shielded my eyes. He said something softly to his brother who’d been in the car with us, shut the door and then he climbed a narrow staircase with me. A moment later he kicked a slightly ajar dark stained wooden door open and then swept his foot backwards once we were in to shut it. He turned around and locked a deadbolt and put me down on a bed. He was standing over me, looking down at me for a moment, his expression unreadable to me.
My dam burst and the tears fell like Niagara Falls. He flicked the light switch off, sat, grabbed me, pulled me up onto his lap, and rocked me some more in the dark. He held me tight, almost too tight. After a few minutes or an hour, I wasn’t sure, he let go. He got up to his feet. I clambered up to my knees on the bed and threw my arms around him and held on tight, not wanting him to leave me alone, not wanting someone to swoop in and take me, not wanting his sweetness to change to anger.
He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “I’m gonna run a bath. Just a minute, okay?”
I let go of him and just sat on the edge of the bed.
He went to an adjoining bathroom and turned the water on. He was back a moment later and reaching for my hand. I stood up and followed him into the bathroom. I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, my eyes were bloodshot, and my black and white checkered dress with the red collar and red belt was filthy and ruined. I had no shoes on my dirty feet. Tommy looked rough, too. He was wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a white button up shirt, but he was filthy dirty. He looked exhausted. His face was prickly and unshaven. He looked down at me and started to undo the zipper on the back of my dress. I let the material fall to my feet, got out of my underthings, and got into the big antique-looking claw foot tub and wrapped my arms around my legs, putting my cheek on my knee.
He shed his clothing, including two guns plus a knife and leg holster and piled it all on the floor beside the tub. He got in behind me and started to massage my shoulders. I started ugly-crying big time. He soaped my back up with a giant sudsy sponge and then passed the sponge to me and I resumed the rest of the soaping up in the front, still crying.
He reached around and tenderly cupped my chin, then tilted my chin up to pour a cup of water over my hair and massaged my scalp, lathering my hair. He lathered it up with a strawberry-scented shampoo and it felt so good I thought I might just fall asleep. Then he rinsed my hair several times with the cup and then lathered himself up hair to toes, rinsed, leaned forward, pulled the plug out and let it drain.
I went to get up but he pulled my back against his front and kissed my temple and kept me there while it drained. Then he leaned over and turned the taps back on to refill it with clean water. He reached over to a shelf beside the tub and poured some lavender scented foam bath in. He pulled me back against his chest and leaned back in the water against the back of the tub. By this time, I had stopped with the tears, but still had the shudders.
He let the tub fill and then we soaked for a while, not talking; I was just listening to the sizzle of the bubbles on our skin and the sound of crickets and frogs outside.