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)
“I would never ”—I shake my head—“ask you to do that.”
“I know, which is another reason I love you like I do.” I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I wanted you to know where I was.”
“I thought you were ending things with me,” I admit to him, and it’s his turn to gasp. “I also was telling myself that it was okay. But it wasn’t, I wasn’t.” My voice cracks, and I put my hand on my mouth. “This is more than anything I’ve ever felt before.” My chest rises and falls. “I never thought in a million years, after the heartache I felt, that I would feel this fullness. That my heart that was shattered into a million pieces would feel like it’s full again.” I close my eyes. “The guilt of loving you and wanting you weighed down on me each and every day.” He doesn’t give me another second to myself as he comes to stand in front of me. “Not sure if I deserve it or not.”
His thumbs catch the tears running down my face. “You deserve it,” he assures me softly, “we deserve it.” He rubs his nose with mine. “We deserve happy, baby.”
“You think so?” I ask, my hands going to his hips, gripping his T-shirt in my hands.
“I don’t think so”—he tilts his head to the side, his lips hovering over mine—“I know so, baby.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Charlie
“The water is ice,” I complain, getting out of the shower and leaving her in there. “It’s like ice pellets hitting my back.”
“Stop being such a princess.” She laughs as she puts her head back and lets the water rinse the shampoo out of her hair. “You swam in a creek before. It’s not warm.”
“I swam in a creek before when I was overheated, and it felt good.” I grab the towel.
“Well, were you not overheated from banging me against this wall?” She hits the wall on the shower.
“It’s not the same thing.” I glare at her, and she laughs, and it literally warms my fucking soul.
“Then maybe you aren’t doing it right,” she teases me, and I turn my head and walk out of her bathroom.
“I’m doing it fine,” I mumble as I pick up my boxers and slide them on before grabbing my jeans. “Do you want a coffee?” I shout to the bathroom, and she sticks her head out.
“You’re staying for coffee?” she asks, and I put my hands on my hips.
“Did we not have a conversation last night?” I ask. All she can do is stare at me, but in a cute way, with her trying to hide a smile by biting the corner of her lip, and I can’t help but walk to her. “What did I say last night?” She looks up at me, her hair wet and so are her eyelashes. I grab her face. “What did I tell you last night?” My voice is low as I turn my head to the side and kiss her lips. It's a short, wet kiss. “So?”
“You said you were in love with me.” Her voice is higher than a whisper.
“So that means I stay for coffee,” I inform her.
“Oh, okay.” She tries not to smile but fails. “Then I’ll have a coffee.”
“I’ll get right on that, baby.” My hands drop from her freezing face. “Please get out of that fucking shower.”
“I have to condition my hair still,” she says. “It’s fine. You get used to it.”
“I also don’t think that’s how it works.” I shake my head.
She pushes me away as she steps back in the shower, and I walk to her bedroom and then outside to the kitchen. I’m grabbing things to make coffee when I see movement coming from the front of the house through the window. I put the mugs down as the hair on the back of my neck sticks up. “What the fuck?” I move my head to the side and see him: the fucking reporter. He looks around to make sure no one is looking in his direction when he reaches out for the mailbox at the curb. I rush to get my boots on, head to the door, and open it before storming out there. There’s a stack of letters in his hand. It takes me three strides to be in front of him, shocking him enough when I grab the front of his shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”
His face pales, the letters falling from his hand. “Oof,” he grunts, his hands going to my wrist.
“I asked you a fucking question,” I hiss at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Get off me.” He tries to fight me off him, but I’m holding on to him for dear life. The rage fills my whole body. “Get the fuck off me.” He moves side to side to try to get my hands to get off him. “I’m fucking suing you for assault.”