Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Bye, Ethan.”
I turn and walk out, my legs moving of their own accord. I don’t take a breath until the elevator doors close, afraid that he’ll follow me, afraid that if he tries to stop me from leaving I’ll cave.
Outside the sun sears my eyeballs, the sidewalks crowded with people. They flow around me without so much as a stutter in their frenetic pace. I shuffle down Lexington Ave. headed nowhere, without a destination in mind. Just moving. Because if I stop, I may never start again. My knees will give out from under me and I’ll drop like a bag of bones on Lexington, between 56th and 55th where I’ll remain long enough for the pigeons to mistake me for a stump to take a dump on…sounds about right.
“Are you okay?”
“Would you stop asking me that. I’m fine,” I say into the cellphone cradled between my shoulder and ear as I take the grocery bags from the check out girl.
The streets of Greenwich Village are packed. Up and down the sidewalk, people flow around me, the heat bringing them out in droves.
“You don’t sound fine.”
I can always tell when Camilla wants to pry. I can also tell when she’s trying to not make it sound obvious. “Well you sound annoying.”
“He was here yesterday. He looks like shit. I’ve never seen him so…unkempt.”
“I don’t feel bad. You’re not making me feel bad at all. Not even a little bit. I don’t care if he goes an entire week without using hair product.”
Camilla snorts. “He said you’re not returning his calls. Can’t you hear him out?”
“Really? It’s only been a week. I’m actually more mad today than I was when Parker the prick told me. If I saw Ethan right now, I’d punch his perfect fucking face.”
“Wow, salty.”
“He LIED to me. Not to mention that I hyperventilate every time I think about how much money he paid that horrible woman.”
“I get it.”
Half a block from my apartment my steps slow when I spot someone sitting on my stoop. “Speaking of my punching bag,” I mutter.
“He’s there?”
“Yeah, call you later.”
“Wait! Don’t hit him in the face. It would be a crime to ruin something so beautiful.”
“Goodbye, you traitor.” Placing the phone in my handbag, I walk up to the man in question. Camilla was right. He looks exhausted.
Sitting on the front steps of my building with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, he glances up as soon as he spots my feet. It hurts to see him this way, it really does. But I’m also equally angry.
His eyes spark as he takes me in. Almost immediately the spark dies and longing and remorse take its place. Standing, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants.
“What do you want, Ethan?”
“Can we talk?”
I walk past him, up the steps and he follows. We walk into my apartment and his gaze shoots directly to the cardboard boxes stacked against the wall.
“You’re moving?” The note of alarm in his voice and his expression all shout what he’s thinking.
I nod. “In two weeks.”
“Amber––” He moves quickly. Grabbing me, he wraps his arms around me. “Amber, listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it…just don’t go yet. Give me a little time.”
The mere act of touching him soothes every amped up, raw nerve in my body. And I don’t stop him. I don’t, because as much as I hate what he did, I love him. My heart is clumsy and impulsive. Not only in the way it beats spastically whenever he’s near me, but also in whom it chooses to pledge itself to. Ethan was right, he’s not perfect, far from it. However, he’s still the man I love.
Squeezing me tighter, he places a kiss on the side of my neck and I sigh. His hands slide down over my ass, pressing me against the rock solid erection trapped between us, and I whimper.
One week. Seven days since he touched me and I crave him like it’s been ages. The second I raise my chin, his lips meet mine. The kiss turns wild in an instant. All the heightened emotions act as tinder to the fire ever smoldering between us. We fumble with each other’s clothing, ripping shit as we go, our lips never once breaking contact. Naked, we sink to the hardwood floor. I’m so lost in him I don’t even feel the impact of the wood against my shoulder blades. Something tells me I will later, however.
Impatiently, he rubs the head of his shaft against me, while I urge him to hurry. And then he thrusts his hips, burying himself so deep inside of me we’re no longer two separate people. Our eyes meet and tears I didn’t know I had in me slide down my cheeks. When I try to look away, he cups my face, urging me to stay with him, to see every emotion living openly on his face. Pain. Fear. And so much Love.