Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
He blinks at me in surprise, and hope filters into his gaze.
“I truly don’t know what I want,” I tell him truthfully. “But part of me feels like I owe you a shot or something because you really came through for me, Vince.”
“What kind of shot?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’m going to talk to Walsh again after lunch, but I’m going to tell him to leave. And then you and I need to really talk. I need to tell you everything about what I’ve been doing the last few weeks, and I need to tell you all about Walsh. There’s so much you need to know about our past together.”
“Are you going to have sex with him again when you go see him?” Vince asks with a tinge of anger.
“I’m not sure,” I tell him, and that’s the truth.
“Are you going to have sex with me?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I also tell him truthfully. “I want us to talk first. But if this is too much for you to handle, I would understand.”
Vince ponders this. He doesn’t like the situation, and that’s because he has no control. But I can’t help it. I’ve got to make sure about what I’m doing. I love Walsh with all my heart, but he abandoned me. I loved Vince with all my heart, and I still love him with a part of my heart, but he pushed me away.
It’s time I figured out what I really want, and I need to be fine with the knowledge that the answer might be that I don’t choose either one of them.
“I don’t like it,” Vince finally says. “But fine… go see him. If you choose to stay in the marriage, I want you to have every opportunity to make sure he’s not the guy and I am.”
CHAPTER 25
Walsh
It’s embarrassing how fast I came fucking Jorie up against that door. Two weeks without her and the knowledge I was claiming her in her husband’s home, the one who had the fucking gall to tell her she was bad in bed, made me come fast and hard.
It took the edge off but not nearly enough.
I’m pretty sure I’ll attack her the minute she walks in the door, and that should be very soon. She texted me a bit ago to say she was on her way, and I’ve had a hard-on since then.
I’ve also been filled with a low-boiling turmoil. Jorie didn’t push me away in her house. She let me have her and screamed my name twice with love.
Not orgasm, but love.
I heard it, and so did she.
And then she told me she was with Vince. Christ, that fucking cut. She then told me that what we did wasn’t right, and that cut me further. I must face the very real possibility that I’ve lost her to a man who pulled through for her when she needed it. I don’t know the guy personally, can’t fucking stand what I do know, yet he did Jorie a solid. He eased her pain for a few days by just being there, and that causes my conscience to tingle a little with wariness.
The knock on the door has me rolling off the bed and trying to adjust my erection away from my zipper as I stand. When I open the door, I want nothing more than to grab her, jerk her into the room, and strip her naked. But the minute I see the look in her eyes, I can’t do anything but open my arms to her.
She walks straight into them and starts sobbing. I don’t know the why of her tears or how to even fix them, so the only thing I can do is let her get them out.
I sweep her up into my arms and take her to the bed. Taking her down with me, I pull her in close, tucking her face into my neck. It’s drenched within moments by her tears that slide down and soak into the collar of my t-shirt.
One hand just keeps her head pressed there, the other rubs her lower back. My erection fades, and I only think about how I can help to ease Jorie’s troubled soul.
Finally, her cries turn to the tiniest of whimpers and finally hiccups. When she takes a stuttering breath and whispers, “I’m okay now,” I let her up and roll off the bed. I grab tissues from the bathroom and a bottled water from the mini fridge. After I uncap the water, I hand it to her. I dab at her cheeks as she drinks.
When she’s done, she pulls her legs to sit Indian style on the bed and stares blankly at her hands that are folded in her lap.
I sit on the edge of the bed near one of her knees and place my palm there. “Talk to me, Jorie.”