Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Tucking her into my bed, I then wait for her to wake up and want to leave, to protest being in my room. The prickly woman would probably apologize for ‘invading my space’ or some crazy shit. It doesn’t happen, though; so I strip down to my boxer briefs and get ready to crash in the guest room myself.
I am heading out of the room when she moves and begins mumbling in her sleep. I know I should keep going, but I can’t. There is an undeniable pull inside me towards her. Following my gut, I make my way over and climb in bed beside her. As if it was second nature, she moves over to me in the bed and snuggles into me. I don’t have any choice except to wrap my arm around her or be miserable for the few hours of sleep I would like to try to get.
It is a strange feeling to have a woman in my bed to merely sleep. I have not had anyone share my bed without having sex since Erin. My young mind never grasped that there could come a time that I wouldn’t be able to have my arm around my wife in the moments lost to peaceful slumber. Then life happened, and she was ripped cruelly from me.
After feeling that sort of pain, I never wanted another woman completely entrenched in my heart. Now, here I lie with another woman sleeping in my arms, and I feel the same sort of peace wash over me that I have not felt in far too long. Furthermore, it doesn’t feel like a betrayal to Erin, not that I want to analyze that realization right now.
Morgan’s breaths tickle my bare chest as she continues her trip through oblivion. My mind wanders, and I whisper quietly into the night to my dead wife.
“Erin, what am I doing? Things are changing. I have given things to Morgan Powell that I didn’t think I had in me to ever give again.”
There is no response, just like every other time I have allowed my mind to reach out for her.
Morgan’s hand comes across my waist much like Erin used to do, and her gentle touch soothes something in me. Her legs tangle in mine as if she is wrapping me in the security of her cocoon. Like a caterpillar being safely surrounded during a change, I am being given a soft, safe, and secure place to let my heart change, open, and fall.
Before I can think further on where any of this is happening, I fall asleep.
“Oh, my goodness, no way.”
I wake up to a frantic Morgan pushing up off me. Her hair is a tousled, sexy mess around her face, and her eyes are not quite focused yet. Some women are only pretty when they put time into make-up and doing their hair. Now I get the chance to see that this woman is gorgeous fresh faced in the morning.
“I am so sorry. I haven’t slept well since Madyson disappeared, only a few hours here and there when I pass out from exhaustion. Oh, my… I’m just so sorry.”
“I’m not,” I state honestly while my dick starts to stir. I am not sure if I should start doing algebra to stop it or say fuck it and let it happen.
She looks at me intently, as if she is trying to gage the depth of my sincerity. I watch her back, wondering if I should kiss her, whether she will pull that stick out of her uptight ass and let me. Before we can discuss or do anything, my bedroom door flies open.
“What the hell? I like her dad. I really like her. Why?” Brooke screams in her teenage hysteria. When she is like this, I feel like it is defcon level five or some shit. I am never going to understand hormonal, teenage girls. This sort of shit makes me want to grab my helmet along with my guns and head to a fucking bunker to hide.
Morgan’s face pales as my eyes grow wild at my daughter’s assumption.
“I can talk to Morgan. Finally, since Gram, I have someone to talk to. Now you’ve fucked her and fucked it all up,” Brooke yells, her eyes watering with unshed tears before turning to stomp downstairs.
“I’m so sorry, Ice. This is all my fault. God, I don’t even know your first name, and your daughter thinks we had sex.” Morgan moves to climb out of bed.
“It’s okay. I’ll handle it. And my name is Brett.” I can’t help smiling at her mortification. The way she says sex is like a teen who just completed health class. It is cute, exactly like everything else about Morgan.
“No. Please, let me. I don’t want her to think this is more than it is.”