Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
But when he lowers down, kissing each of my eyes, forcing them to close—forcing me to take a breath—the cracking stops. It doesn’t mend, it just stops.
I lie there, his hips still moving. Still rocking me. Lulling me into a sense of calm easiness.
When he speaks, his words are a whisper. Just a feathery touch against my cheek. And they are neither lies, nor fantasy. “It’s not gonna work out for us, Clover. We’re doomed. But I’ll take doomed over nothing. This one day with you as a free man is worth more than a hundred years as a slave.”
Then his mouth finds my lips and no more words are spoken.
Because there is no time for words when you’re doomed.
Every moment counts.
I don’t want to let go. I’m not the kind of woman who plays life like a game, who lives every day like it’s my last. Even though I plan weddings, I’m a worker, mainly. Not a romantic. I like coordinating things, obviously. I like checking things off lists, and problem-solving, and results.
I really, really like results.
So my first instinct is to protest and hash this out until I get my desired ending. The happily ever after, if you will. I mean, isn’t that the whole point of a wedding?
But I don’t feel much like myself right now.
In fact, I don’t have the slightest idea of who I am.
So I drift into this new reality with him where we’re some kind of Bonnie and Clyde couple. Racing through this day as if it’s our last.
Our movements pick up and he leans on me a little harder. A little heavier. Still holding my face. Still kissing my mouth. And we just fuck. It becomes so intense, I find myself digging my fingernails into his shoulders, then scraping them down his back.
He bites me again. In the very same place, right on that muscle below my neck. We both come when he does that, his soft words, barely a whisper, floating into my ear. “There. You’ve got yourself a hickey.”
Which makes it all end with a smile.
He rolls off me, but immediately pulls me in next to his chest. Even though it’s morning, I have a heavy sense of fatigue and being so close together, I am warm and comfortable in way I don’t ever think I’ll feel again.
So I’m drifting off—it is a way to prolong the dream, after all—when his words tickle the back of my neck. “I’ll come back for you, Clover. And then we’ll have time.”
“Time for what?” I sleepily ask.
“To fall in love, of course.”
I don’t know why this makes me happy because nothing has changed. Our doom is still very much preordained. But this promise, empty as it might be, is exactly what I needed to hear.
So I believe him.
CHAPTER 18 - RIGGS
Iwake up hours later. I can tell by the light filtering in from the sheer drapes along the wall of windows to my right. Blackberry Hill has a rather outdated circadian program, so the changing nature of the light outside isn’t as subtle as what I grew up with. But it’s good enough to know it’s definitely some time in the afternoon and Clover and I are still in bed.
The funny thing is, I’m still tired. It’s more of an exhaustion, really. And I suspect that Clover is feeling this way as well, because even though she turns over and cracks an eye open to look at me, she closes it back up just as quickly. A signal, if ever there was one, that she’s not even close to being ready to get out of this bed.
“We’ve got all day,” I tell her.
She huffs out a little breath of air and then her response comes out sleepy and slow. “It feels a little wasteful, doesn’t it?”
I slip my arm underneath her shoulders, then draw her in tight to my chest, resting my mouth on that fleshy muscle I like to bite, suddenly having an urge to do it again. But I restrain myself. “What’s wasteful about spending a day in bed?”
“We only get the one, ya know. This is it for us.”
“Yup. We’re doomed.”
“So maybe we should put a little more thought into our last day.”
“What do you wanna do? Go be a tourist?”
“I dunno. I just don’t wanna waste it.”
She’s right, I know this. I just don’t wanna get out of bed. “All right. Let’s play a little game. It’s called… Truth or Fantasy.”
She peeks over her shoulder, squinting one sleepy eye at me. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s just like Truth or Dare, but for people who are already naked.”
Clover laughs and turns around. And my God, her smile lights me up. “Truth or Dare for naked people?”
“Yeah. So, like… there’s no weird consequences. When you dare someone, it comes with a level of angst and discomfort. But my version of the game is a fantasy. Truth or Fantasy. We all know what truth is. I ask you a question and you answer. Fantasy is… I give you a command.”