Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I can't stay unless I tell him.
I can't leave unless I tell him.
"You don't have to say anything else," Patrick says.
I shake my head.
He rests his palm on my cheek, wipes a tear with his thumb. "You don't. Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me."
I did the same thing.
I'm sorry.
I'm stealing your pain, making it about me. I hate when people do that. It's the worst thing in the world.
"If you want to go, I won't stop you," he says. "But I don't want you to go."
"But—"
"You want to be here?"
I nod.
"I want you here. Don't over-think it." He wipes another tear with his thumb. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Or not talk about it."
"You're that agreeable?"
"No. I like your tits that much."
A laugh breaks up my tears.
His voice shifts back to a serious tone. "I haven't talked about my sister with anyone. This is new for me too. I'm scared too."
"You are?"
"Terrified."
"I don't want to hurt you," I say.
"You're not going to hurt me."
"Really? If I end things now, it won't hurt?"
"Okay, yeah, it will. But that's the cost of a relationship, isn't it?" he asks.
"You sound like my sister."
"She must be a smart kid."
"She is." I rest my head on his chest. "I have my own problems."
"Everyone does."
"I don't know if I can share."
"It's not a race."
"You're this calm about it? Really?"
"I'm not calm." He rests his hand on mine. "I'm shaking. But I don't want you to go and that's bigger than anything."
"Anything?"
"Anything I can imagine. And I've got a great imagination."
Maybe.
But even with this right in front of his face—
Most people never imagine this possibility.
Patrick laces his fingers with mine. "Stay. At least tonight. You're upset. You shouldn't drive. I'll sleep on the couch."
"No."
"Imogen—"
"No. I don't want to go. You're right. I just… I don't want to mislead you."
"You want to be here?"
I nod.
"You like me?"
"Yes. But this isn't casual anymore. And there are things I should tell you. Important things."
"Is there someone else?" he asks.
"No."
"Then you don't need to tell me. Not yet."
"Really? That's the only secret that would hurt you?"
"No. But I'm a man. And I'm not better than my instincts," he says.
"Me either."
"I think you are."
"I'm really not. But I… I don't want to talk anymore."
"Okay." He releases my hand.
I grab his wrist. "No. I want to not talk. If that's okay with you. I know everything with your sister must be complicated and I want to listen, I do. But right now, I can't. And I respect it if you need space or if you need an ear, I just—"
"Kiss me."
I don't hesitate. I bring my lips to his. I kiss him hard and fast.
My need pours into him.
His need pours into me.
It's different than our other kisses. Charged with the desire to come closer, let our walls down, connect mentally and emotionally as we connect physically.
It's different than it was with Zack too. I didn't love Zack. I didn't trust Zack. I didn't want to show Zack the places I hurt.
It wasn't his fault (not entirely). I never gave him a chance.
But this—
I'm trying.
Patrick wraps his arms around me. He guides me to the stairs.
We struggle up them.
I pull my tank top over my head.
He does away with his t-shirt.
Then my bra.
He pulls me onto the bed and wraps his arms around me. He explores my body with his hands.
He's not just finding the places that make me purr.
He's exploring my heart and soul too.
The same way I surrender to my physical needs, I surrender to these.
I close my eyes and I soak in the sensation of his hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, his breath in my ear.
The slow, tender movements.
The softness.
The intimacy.
We lie together, kissing and touching, for a long, long time. Then he brings his lips to my chin and kisses a line down my body.
All the way to my belly button, then just below it.
He undoes the button of my jeans and rolls them all the way to my feet. Then the cotton panties.
The feel of his lips against my thigh.
He explores me with his tongue, testing me with long, slow strokes and hard, fast ones.
He licks me up and down.
Then he finds the spot where I need him and he tests me there.
A little harder, a little higher, a little faster, a little slower.
There.
I dig my hands into his hair. "Fuck, Tricky. Don't stop."
He gives me exactly what he needs. He works me with perfect, steady flicks of his tongue.
Soft and wet and perfect.
My eyes close.
My hips buck.
My hands knot in his hair.
The rest of the world fades away until all I feel is anticipation. His soft wet tongue against me, his hands against my thighs, his movements winding me tighter and tighter.
Closer and closer.
Until it's almost too much to take.