Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I had never considered a future with Bodie. It was never something that was possible. But now I’m sitting here with a man who has proven he cares about me as an individual. Who has been rock steady support to me, and has done nothing but give me happiness and pleasure.
Why would I not want to build something with him? He’s the first man I’ve ever even considered that with.
A small voice penetrates… tells me to be cautious. The heart is a sensitive organ and can be gravely hurt. There are risks, and a relationship is hard work. I’ve never been cut out for it before, and I’m not sure I am now.
It’s something I have to give some serious thought to, because the last thing I want to do is hurt Bodie.
But I also don’t want to lose him either.
CHAPTER 19
Bodie
I bang impatiently on Rachel’s door, completely not caring it’s almost one in the morning. I came here straight from McCarran where we landed not long ago after finishing a security detail for some Saudi prince who is traveling around the United States. He attended some movie premiere in L.A., and we were hired to provide extra security coverage for him.
Rachel, of course, didn’t go. The spotting incident scared the shit out of her, and even though Dr. Anchors felt the security work would be fine, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She begged off, and Kynan had no problem filling her slot.
I get her fears, and truth be told, I’m glad she decided to lay low for a bit. Get past the scare, make sure everything is okay. I would have worried the whole time—same as her—and that stress can’t be good either.
But this walking on eggshells is going to stop. Rachel is going a little overboard, and that ends right this fucking minute.
I bang again, and finally Rachel yells back in a sleepy, grumpy voice that comes closer to the door. “Hold your fucking horses, Wright.”
So, she knows it’s me at her door, even though I didn’t tell her I was coming over after I landed. But really, who else would it be? Besides, she knows my patience is completely worn thin with her.
The scare with the spotting happened over ten days ago. The last three days, I’d been gone on the security detail to L.A., which meant the seven before that Rachel wouldn’t let me touch her.
At all.
Okay, sure… she was fine with me staying the night, sleeping with her, and holding her in my arms. But past that, her body was off limits.
And I understood it. She was freaked, and I didn’t want to make matters worse. She pointed out time and time again that Dr. Anchors said it could have been caused by sex.
I pointed out right back, “But he didn’t say we couldn’t have sex. Just that it could cause spotting.”
But Rachel is Rachel, and I’ve come to learn she’s stubborn. She wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t even fucking let me go down on her to get her off, although I’ll grudgingly admit she offered me a blow job every fucking night. I wasn’t taking it, though. Not unless she was going to let me give back.
Truth be told, it was fine. I was certainly enjoying staying at her house with her. We cooked meals together, watched movies, and slept in bed wrapped totally around each other. So, it wasn’t just fine. It was fucking awesome.
It’s just awesome being around Rachel, and she grows softer and more accepting of my care as every day passes. Which meant I didn’t grumble too much about the lack of sex.
That changed last night when I talked to her from L.A. I told her to get ready for my return, because I was going to give her an orgasm that was going to make her toes curl so tight she’d never be able to walk again.
She made a purring sound in her throat, which caused my cock to stir to life, and then killed it deader than a doornail when she said, “It’s too soon.”
“We’ll see about that,” I’d promised her ominously.
Even though I know Rachel is coming to the door, I bang two more times for posterity. She’s good and pissed when she finally swings it open.
“Just what in the hell—”
She doesn’t get any further because I sweep her up in my arms like a groom would his bride, and march her right back to her room. I’d like to toss her down and strip her out of her little tank top and boy shorts she’s wearing, but I’m cognizant of her fears so I gently lay her down.
“We’re not having sex,” she sputters, but I also hear amusement in her voice.
“Oh, yes we are,” I say as I toss my phone at her. “Read it and weep.”