Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
She turns around. “I’ve been just fine for the past eight years, Charlie.” She clenches her teeth. “I think I’ll be good.”
“Should I turn off my truck and meet you on the swing, then?” I ask her, and she doesn’t answer me. Instead, she just storms up her steps and slams her front door.
I turn and head to my truck, turning it off before walking around the house, up the steps, and sitting on the swing. She comes out five minutes later and groans when she sees me. “Can you just go away?” She’s changed out of her jean shorts to one of her white tank tops and her tight light-gray sleep shorts. A long sweater hangs open, and she wraps it around her middle when she sees me.
“Not until you are in your bed,” I say, and I want to pull her to me and have her sit on top of me so we can make out. Fuck, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in my life, which makes me feel a little guilty. “You going to come over here and sit with me, or are you going to go to bed?”
“I’m going to ask you to leave, then I’m going to sit on the swing and decompress.”
I swallow down the words that want to come out, which are I have a better idea to make you decompress, but instead, I move over on the swing, and she comes over and sits next to me. “Honestly, Charlie.” She looks over at me, and I put my hand on the back of the swing. “I don’t have the energy to fight with you. I’m mentally exhausted.” She sounds tired, and I want to kick myself because I’m probably one of the reasons she’s so tired.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say, my thumb rubbing her shoulder. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” I turn to look ahead at the darkness of the night. I don’t know how long we sit on the swing, neither of us saying anything, when I look over and see her closing her eyes. “If you want, I can carry you inside.” I get up, and she turns to look at me, her eyes filled with sleep.
“I’m good.” She gets up, taking a step toward the door. “Good night.” She turns and looks at me over her shoulder.
“I’ll just stay here a while to make sure,” I state as she opens the storm door, “unless you want me to come and lie down in bed with you?” I know if I go into that house, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off her. I know the minute I get into her bed, I’ll want to sink into her. Even though it’ll be amazing, I want more than that. I also know we are both not ready for whatever it is that this is going to be. “Lock up,” I say as she walks inside, and I hear the lock click. I sit here and wait thirty minutes, and when she doesn’t come out, I get up and make my way to my house. Sliding into bed and laying my head on the pillow, I don’t expect sleep to come and take me as fast as it does. When the alarm rings in the morning, I reach over, finding the bed empty but wishing I was waking up with her.
Instead, I’m in the middle of the bed, thinking about her. I get up and look out at the sun coming up, making the sky look like it’s pink. I step into the shower, my hand gripping my cock as I think about her. It takes me no time before I’m moaning out her name in a release. I get dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt before grabbing my mug of coffee and heading out to the barn. Emmett gets there at the same time as I step into the barn, and he stops in his tracks.
“You’re here,” he says, and I just stare at him.
“Where else am I supposed to be?” I bring the cup of coffee to my lips.
“It’s just that the past couple of days you’re usually getting back home at this time.” I raise my eyebrows.
“You keeping track of me?”
“It’s hard not to see you coming back when you walk through a fenced area and head to the house.” He points at the door that shows where I would walk by. “Slinking home with your head hanging forward, regretting whatever or whoever you just did.”
“No regrets,” I say. “At least not lately.”
“Is that so?” he asks me, walking over to the coffee maker and starting the coffee. “That’s interesting.”
“Nothing about it is interesting,” I inform him, “and it’s also none of your damn business.”