Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Ask me whatever you want.” My voice is calm but deep down I’m screaming. Because I know I’ll answer her. I’ll tell her everything just to take that pain away, even if it’s only temporary, even if it fucks her too.
Her doe eyes widen slightly and she cowers back, swallowing before answering me. “Aren’t you tired?” she says softly and her eyes flicker to the door and then to the floor.
She doesn’t want to know the truth.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted. But I’m not going to bed until you do.” I lick my lips and clear my throat, hoping she’ll give in to me. For nearly the past year when I’m home, I’ve tried to stay up with her or brush off the fact that I’d pass out while she was still working and vice versa. Not tonight, not from this point forward. The advice my father gave me on our wedding night was to go to bed together. I should have listened. I’ll make it better, I can at least fix that.
“I can stay up for you,” I say, offering her the suggestion. It’s not what she wants, but it’s something.
“Well, this has to get done, and it’s going to take hours.”
“I can wait,” I tell her but the second the words slip out she turns back to the computer and says, “Don’t.”
With her back to me and her fingers already flying across the keys again, I’ve never felt more alone and crestfallen.
“I’ll go unpack and relax on the bed then,” I say as I grip the doorframe to stay upright and keep myself from ripping her out of that chair and bringing her to bed.
“Here?” Shock coats the single word.
It takes me a moment to realize why the hell she’s asking me that and when I do, it’s like a bullet to the chest.
A mix of emotions swell in my gut and heat my blood. Anger is there, but the dejectedness is what cuts me the most.
“Is that all right?” I ask sarcastically.
She nods, conceding to let me stay in my own damn house, but the look in her eyes doesn’t fade. She really wants me out. She wants me to just leave? Did she think I wouldn’t fight for her? That I’d let this destroy us? It may ruin me, but I’d rather chew on broken glass than let it ruin us.
“I said I don’t want a divorce.” My words come out hard. I’m sick of this. “I want you,” I tell her with conviction and walk closer to her, not leaving any space between us.
“I don’t know what I want,” Kat responds in a murmur, gripping the armrests of the desk chair as her lips form a painful frown and her eyes gloss over. Like she’s on the verge of breaking. The last thread that was holding her together has snapped, leaving her falling. I’m not there to catch her, because I’m the one that pushed her over the edge. I hate myself for it.
It’s my fault, and this is all on me, but I’ll make it right.
“You don’t have to, Kat,” I say, softening my voice and move just a little closer. I need a chance. She’s vulnerable; I can feel it coming off of her in waves. Give in to me, baby.
I cup her cheek in my hand to lean down and kiss her, but she pushes back, quickly standing and making the chair slam against the desk.
My pride, my ego, whatever it is that makes me a man, is destroyed in this moment. My limbs freeze and the tension makes me feel like I’m breaking. Literally cracking in my very center.
I lick my lips, finally letting out a breath as Kat whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m just ...” She doesn’t finish, and I have to look up at her before I can stand upright again.
“You just what?”
“I don’t know, Evan,” she answers with desperation in her voice.
“Don’t think,” I tell her, grasping for anything to keep her from running. “Just let me make it better,” I offer and she stands there, in nothing but that T-shirt, and looks at me as if I’m both her savior and her enemy.
I walk slowly, each step making the floor groan in quiet protest. I don’t quicken my pace until I’m close enough to her to feel her heat. And she lets me, standing still and giving me the chance I need.
My lips crash against hers, my body molding to her small frame and forcing her back. For each step she takes, I take one with her.
“Stop,” she tells me and pushes me away. My breathing is ragged as my hands clench to keep from holding on to her as she leaves me. I can still taste her, my body ringing with desire to make it up to her.
To ease her pain and remind her how good I make her feel. It’s what she needs. It’s been weeks and I can’t deny I need her even more. I need to bury myself inside her warmth.