Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
I clarified, “At the end of the day, what do you want?”
“I want you.”
God. Those words hit me in the sternum, sending vibrations through my whole body. They were intoxicating to hear. My blood heated.
“But other than me, what do you want?”
He considered my question for a little bit. “I can’t live under someone else’s rule. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?” His eyes lingered on my mouth. He flicked back up to meet my gaze. “You want me to stop doing what I do. If I did, that would mean another gang or organization or family would rule instead. Where there is an opening for power, someone will take it. It’s the natural way of things. Someone always rises to the top. We’d have to live under their rules and guidelines. I wouldn’t be able to protect you. I can’t do that. Where you go, I will always try to protect you. Even though you have proved over and over again that you don’t need me.”
My heart leapt. I whispered, unable to stop myself, “I’ll always need you.”
And just like that, all of the hope that I’d been too scared to let myself feel, all of it deflated right out of me. We were back to square one because if I had him, I’d never live any semblance of a normal life.
I wanted him, but not how he was. And he couldn’t change himself.
I was being torn apart inside.
“Uncuff me.” His eyes were suddenly heated, tracing over every inch of my face.
My arms were weighed down by cement anchors, but I did as he asked. As soon as one hand was free, his arm snaked forward, his hand cupping the side of my face. He smoothed his thumb over my cheek, tilting my head in his palm. “What did I say that made you so sad?”
Because of course he wouldn’t understand. Maybe logically, but not emotionally.
I shook my head, my voice rough as I whispered, “It doesn’t matter.”
He leaned closer, now arching over me. “It matters to me.” He kept searching my face as if the answer would suddenly appear there. It wasn’t that simple. “What do you want me to do, Blake? Tell me. I’ll do it. This one time.”
I could’ve said so much, but the truth was that I wanted him to be someone else, and that would never happen. “I—” My whole body was hurting. All of it was one massive ache that was never going to leave me. This wasn’t going to work. I needed to accept that.
I couldn’t stay in this in-between stage. Where he and I were dancing around being together or not. I needed to try something different.
“Kiss me.”
He studied me for another beat, his eyebrows pinching together, but then his face cleared, and once again, with dead eyes, he leaned to me. His lips found mine, and I gasped, because even though there was no emotion on his face, the fact was that his touch elicited all the emotions inside of me. I had more than enough for both of us.
Something had to change.
I was going to give in.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blake
Creighton didn’t hold back.
His mouth opened over mine, and I was helpless to do anything except cling to him. He was rough. There was a primal edge to his kiss, and something inside of me, deep inside of me, began to respond. Like there was my own monster in me and he was waking her up.
My whole body shook. “Eight.”
He had one hand holding the side of my face, but suddenly both his hands were there. How he got the other free, I didn’t know. I also wasn’t surprised. He framed my face.
God. Those eyes of his. They were usually dead. They were black looking back at me, but I could see something stirring in them. There was a heat overlaying that, whatever was underneath.
A prick of fear stabbed me, and I shoved it aside.
He held still, still staring at me, and both of his thumbs swept over my cheeks. He tilted my head backward, dropping his mouth to my throat. A groan left me.
That felt good. That felt so good.
“Creighton,” I gasped again, my hands grabbing onto his biceps.
His hands left my face and dropped to my thighs. He lifted me up, swept the pillow out from between us, and pulled me on top of him. I sank down, feeling how hard he was.
I pulled back and looked at where we met. We were both still clothed. I hadn’t wanted to feel completely disarmed against him, so I stayed in my day clothes when I waited for him. Jeans and a sweatshirt. He came to me in black athletic joggers and a black sweatshirt. I loved this look on him. Always had. It made him look like an elite athlete, and sometimes I liked to indulge. I’d daydream about what life would be like if we were different people. If he was a professional athlete and I was his girlfriend. Or hell, maybe someone like the owner of a bookstore. Notting Hill, where neither of us were known.