Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Quit paying so close attention to me,” I mumble.
“It has nothing to do with Chase?”
“Didn’t you just hint that it was rude to ask people about their personal lives?” I challenge. “There’s nothing going on between Chase and me.”
“So it doesn’t bother you that he just walked in?”
My first instinct is to whip my head around, but doing so would prove her point.
“Not at all,” I say, lifting my glass to my mouth.
“What if he showed up with that Hailey girl he has working down at the store with him?”
“What?” I do exactly what she expected, twirling around so fast toward the door that my drink sloshes over my hand.
My heart thunders in my chest at the sight of him.
Laughter fills my ears, my friend finding my reaction comical.
“He came in alone,” she says, putting me out of my misery when I keep looking around to find Hailey when I don’t see her near him.
As if he can sense us watching him, his eyes lift in our direction.
I can’t quite tell if it’s purposeful. Anyone who frequents this bar knows exactly where to find Adalynn when Cash is on shift. Him looking this way means he expected to see someone here.
My heart kicks in my chest at his attention, but I do my best not to overthink it.
He feels like a problem, like a habit I have no chance of kicking. It’s reminiscent of that time I tried to stop drinking sodas. It lasted all of three days until the headaches and temptation were just too much and I caved.
As he licks his lower lip and begins walking this way, I know this is exactly the same. If he asks, I’ll jump right back into whatever it was.
“Hey there!” Adalynn says with a much-too-jovial tone.
“Adalynn,” he says, dipping his head in hello, but then his attention is on me. “Dance with me.”
I don’t know how I stay seated, but I listen to the pounding in my chest.
The dance floor isn’t safe for me. He isn’t safe for me, and I don’t mean in a way that will leave me physically hurt. I have no doubt the man would be chivalrous because he was raised to respond that way. My heart isn’t safe with him. As I look down at his hand, I recall the last time he asked me to dance and exactly where that led the two of us.
Him standing in front of me makes me think I can keep my emotions out of it this time, but isn’t that the exact same reasoning addicts use when deciding to use a different drug than the one they know they need to quit?
It feels irresponsible to compare my current situation to the struggle those with addictions face, but Chase Woodson is just as capable of ruining my life. The fallout from this could be just as soul crushing.
Even with all of that reasoning, even with knowing this will leave me broken, I still drop my hand into his and allow him to pull me out onto the dance floor.
Maybe it can be different. Maybe if we stick to the rules we can do this sex thing the right way, the way we expected it to be that first night.
I can do this. I can focus on only the physical part of what he’s offering. I can keep my heart locked away behind bars and so many layers that I’ll be able to choke out all the feelings I started to have for him.
When the red flags start to pop up, I’ll bolt. It’ll be over.
Why, as he moves me across the dance floor, I ignore the fact that he dropped me for a week before being right back in front of me, I’ll never understand. Maybe if I had listened to that screaming voice then, I could’ve actually kept my heart from really getting broken.
Instead, I let him pull me close, and I get lost in the way his chest rumbles against me as he hums the words to the song, his expert feet moving me across the room and back again.
We dance until my feet scream at me to take a break. When he heads to the bar for a couple bottles of water, I make my escape to the restroom.
The night didn’t start perfectly, but there’s a real chance it can end that way. I rush through splashing some water on my face, wondering just how much of the redness in my cheeks is from the overheated dance floor and how much of it is because of Chase.
I give myself a pep talk as I stare at my reflection.
This is sex and only sex.
Orgasms do not equal love.
You can have one without the other.
I have to do this. It’s imperative to be emotionless, to be capable of having sex with him and ignoring that voice that whispers, telling me it means more.