Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Mom was the one who taught me to shave, knot a tie, talk to a girl I liked.
I was hopeless, honestly.
But it was okay.
I was used to being alone.
Loneliness was comfortable. Like an old pair of pants.
Maybe I wouldn't win an award for best dressed, but I felt like myself.
I didn't have to worry about saying goodbye. Tossing and turning. Swallowing that awful fear I'd lose someone forever.
I focused on school. Work. Football.
My teammates became my friends. I was good at football. I needed to win. I'd never cheat or sacrifice sportsmanship, but I'd practice for hours, memorize plays, run until my legs gave out.
People wanted to be around the star player.
Girls flocked to us.
I learned enough.
How to flirt, how to charm, how to explain what I wanted.
I discovered I had unusual tastes. Some part of me knew—I hadn't seen these things in films or television—but I had no idea how deep they went.
I tried to ignore my desires for a long time. Girls my age weren’t all that receptive to being tied up.
In university it was easier. Women wanted to experiment. We'd play for a few weeks or months then part ways. It was never long enough to earn their trust.
It was never long enough to develop a real intimacy.
I didn’t give in to what I wanted. Not completely. Not until I met Indigo.
But that was easier. Safer. I didn’t want to fall for someone. I didn't need the ache of distance or the pain of parting.
Even when Dad retired and Ian returned to London—
It was too late. The ache was too deep. My heart was too closed.
It was easier, having Dad home, starting a company with Ian.
Work kept me busy. Family dinners erased the loneliness.
Ian and I did well.
We made enough money women saw me as a dollar sign instead of a fun few weeks.
Dad died.
Ian divorced. Moved to the States.
I followed for the summer.
Met Indigo.
I keep thinking about that night.
The bar in midtown. The sunset behind us. Her almost black hair falling down her back.
The drive and determination in her deep blue eyes.
The silky lilt of her voice as she asked what I'd like to drink.
There was something special about her. I knew it the second I saw her.
Then I ran into her, at the fucking Museum of Sex, no less.
And the look she gave me. Bashful, curious, intense—
I knew I needed to have her.
But I had no idea how deep it went.
How much I'd crave her.
How much I'd miss her when I left.
Did I love her? I'm not sure.
The word wasn't in my vocabulary at the time. Until I met Rory and she—
It was easy.
I wasn't afraid of losing her.
I don't know why. Logically, it doesn't make any sense.
She was part of this world—money and manners and propriety.
She understood it in a way I didn't. Helped me navigate it.
She convinced me I could be the kind of man who wanted this life.
Now, I don't know.
But then, I believed it. I believed I could belong in her world of manners and propriety. I believed I could be a gentleman who made love, not a man who fucks like an animal.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel an ache in my chest, a tension in my shoulders, an empty spot deep inside me.
Then one day, she woke up, and she didn't love me anymore.
I'm not sure how long she went, how many months she spent trying to fall back in love with me, trying to convince herself to stay.
Only the day she left.
The look in her eyes as she pressed the ring into my palm.
I'm sorry, Ty, but I don't love you anymore.
Like it hurt her more than it hurt me. Like she wanted, more than anything, to still love me.
She just couldn't.
And now—
I'm not capable of love. Not anymore.
I won't fall for Indigo.
But I can take care of her.
I can earn her trust.
I can do everything in my power to give her a good life.
Support, orgasms, and ten million dollars.
It's not love, but it's something.
I only hope it's enough.
I wake early. Run the loop at Battery Park. Shower. Dress. Walk the five blocks to the office.
It's a cool day. Big grey clouds, soft white light, brisk air.
Spring weather is strange in New York. Some days the sun is blazing. Others, the sky fills with heavy raindrops.
It's a nice day. Temperate. But even in my office I can't get comfortable.
One minute, I'm burning. The next, I'm frozen.
Then Indigo arrives and I'm on fire.
Paloma introduces her. "Mr. Hunt, your fiancée is here." She squeals with pleasure. A love of gossip or an actual desire to see me happy?
I'm not sure.
"Mr. Hunt." Indigo raises a brow. "I remember when I called you that."
She's in a casual outfit today. Short boots, ripped jeans, a tight black top. The same pendant between her perfect tits.