Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Like did he shrink it?
Is it purposely bunched up to frame his tattoos?
God, his tattoos are all so sexy and so meaningful and so the places I wanna touch right now.
He bites his bottom lip as heat rapidly expands in his gaze, evidence his brain is turning the same direction as mine. “You said talk, baby.” His face lowers itself closer to mine to whisper, “Your face now says fuck.”
The words are out of my mouth without my consent. “I love that you aren’t afraid to say that shit in public.”
Ry quirks an eyebrow. “Why the fuck would I be?”
“Because other people can hear you.”
“Fuck other people,” he callously brushes off as we move up to next in line. “It only matters that you hear me.” His fingers flex for emphasis. “That you’re here with me.”
Whimpering sounds are swiftly followed by an ache between my thighs.
The man I’m undeniably still in love with flashes me a smug smirk. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and my ass is gonna be late back from lunch.”
I helplessly begin to giggle yet am cut off by the food truck worker shouting, “Next!”
We step up to the window, and Ry’s immediately recognized by the male working. They share a small exchange before he warmly introduces me as his girlfriend which informs me there is no other female in his life. While one dealer on my shoulder basically shouts about the term being too soon and things moving much too fast, the other screams in joy at being paraded around out of pure love versus an ulterior motive. He casually explains to me the basics of the bacon-based menu; however, he doesn’t decide for me on what to order. He picks what he wants and patiently waits for me to do the same. The only real issue occurs when I insist on paying.
“Fuck, I got it, Pres,” he practically growls at the same he swipes his card. “Just…let me do this.”
My initial submission has me nodding.
Retreating.
Stepping slightly to the side to give him some space.
I drop my stare to my sandals, common cravings for bread creeping across the tongue I’m metaphorically biting.
Another wave of unpleasant familiarity jolts through my system, preceding an unwanted echo of Katherine’s voice reminding that I have to stop shutting down and start speaking up.
“Picnic table?” Ry warmly asks shifting my attention upward.
“I am not the same girl I was when we were in school.”
Confusion momentarily flashes on his face. “You trying to tell me that you don’t like picnic tables anymore?”
“Okay, so not my smoothest segue, but whatever.” The shrug of my shoulders is small. “What I meant was…I am not a doormat.”
“You weren’t a doormat then.”
“But I fucking was.” My admission catches us both off guard. “I loved and had such a fear of losing you that I lost myself. And I refuse to let that happen again. I am done with that bullshit.” The lengthening of my spine is also unexpected. “I can make my own decisions. I can speak my own mind. And I can pay for my own shit.”
“You don’t want me to take care of you?”
“I don’t want you to do anything but love me for me.”
“I’ve never stopped fucking loving you, Pres.”
“Ry-”
“Never.” He invades my space, and like the night he was on my doorstep, it seems impossible to breathe. “And I’ll always fucking love you. You think the tattoos all over my body being about you and us are a goddamn coincidence?”
Um…valid…point.
“I loved the girl you were then. And I have no doubt in my mind that I love the woman you are now. You’re the other half of my fucking soul, baby. You’re the embodiment of my biggest hopes, fears, dreams, wishes, and fucking regrets coated in the world’s most gorgeous brown skin. You are meant for me to love and adore and fucking treasure, and I will never again make the mistake of not doing that shit.”
I melt, shoulders sagging towards the ground. “You really hurt me, Ry.”
“I know.”
“Bad.” Katherine’s previous talks push me to continue speaking in spite of how much I just want to grab a hot dog bun and shut up. “Like…so fucking bad. I don’t even know if I ever really healed from what happened between us. After we broke up, I buried those thoughts, emotions, any inkling of the person I was when I was with you. I ended up broken on a completely different level. Fractured in such a way that up until recently, I didn’t even fully grasp. And no, it wasn’t all your fault, I was there, too. I didn’t have to make those choices. I didn’t have to put up with what I did. I didn’t have to become someone I wasn’t out of desperation of keeping you. I didn’t have to let what people thought about me…about us…affect me so much. I could have dealt with our separation differently. I didn’t have to turn to bread the way some people turn to the bottle to cope. But I did. My point is…”