Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“And you’re forgetting I lost you once. I won’t let you out of my sight again. I have one of the highest trained security teams in the country. The safest place for you to be is at my side.”
The suggestion was noble. And ridiculous. “Will I stand on stage with you in front of thousands of people while you perform?”
He glared at her and she realized the crater in her argument. Jay Mayard didn’t stand on stage. He sang from the shadows despite his fans’ dismay.
“I owe Nathan Winslow an apology. When I scrape up what’s left of my ego, I’ll give him one.” He interlaced his hands with hers. “He’s a fucking hero.”
Her hackles went up. “Don’t—”
“I’m not being flippant, Charlee. I mean it. He rescued you, and as much as I want to kill him, he’s my fucking hero, too. I got to tell you that’s hard to compete with.”
Why wasn’t he badgering her with questions about Roy? Maybe he wasn’t ready to ruin their reunion by grounding them in her ugly reality. “There’s nothing romantic between Nathan and I.”
Little lines fanned from the corners of his squinting eyes. “I saw you in bed together.”
She sighed. “We’ve been sharing a bed for three years. We’re on the run. We’re scared. We don’t leave each other’s sight, okay? Not even to sleep.”
The disbelief was still there in his eyes.
“As far as I know, he hasn’t been laid in a long damned time.” The reminder squeezed her chest. He deserved so much more than what she’d condemned him to.
“Then I really find it hard to believe that he sleeps next to you without feeling something.”
Her heart tripped. “When we share that bed, Noah’s there between us. Always.”
The tightness in his face ebbed. “Did you love him?”
An ugly mess of emotions balled in her throat. “Not enough.”
28
Jay looked down at their joined hands, his pulse a fuzzy squish in his ears.
Not enough.
He knew Charlee carried guilt over Noah’s death, but if she’d loved him, she would’ve known.
In the years that separated them, he’d written dozens of songs. Every creation bloomed from his memories of her and the emotions those memories stirred. “You can’t control love. It’s like creating music.”
That brought her eyes up to his. “How so?”
“Love is like a series of improbable, lonely notes landing together in meaningful chaos. Where every channel carries a rhythm that conveys an expression of emotion. It doesn’t feel flat or fake or hollow. It’s not exaggerated with overtones. The complexity might feel organized, but the creation is never controlled.”
Her eyes were huge blue portholes. She untangled her hands from his and reached a tentative one toward his face. The movement was a slow climb, allowing him time to welcome it or intervene.
The thought of her touching him produced a clash of feelings in his gut. He wanted to get fucking lost beneath the slide of her hands, but his reaction to touch was involuntary. His trigger would scare her away, even as he wished more than anything it would be different with her.
He caught her hand inches from his face, turned it, and pressed the backs of her fingers to his cheek.
She leaned into his hold, accepting the compromise. “What are your demons, Jay?”
A prickle lit his skin. “That’s a limit.”
“Talking about your demons is a limit?”
For a moment, he couldn’t shake the grip of the old shack. He saw his aunt’s deserted eyes and felt the stiff way she touched him.
The fingers against his face nudged him, pulling him back to the present. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “That’s a limit.”
“What are your other limits?”
How could he convince them both they could be together when they couldn’t share the simplest thing? “No hands.”
“No hands where?” Her eyes flicked to her own hand resting against his cheek.
He sighed and lowered their arms to her lap. “Anywhere.”
Her auburn brows gathered. “Then how—”
“I had control of the touch. I put your fingers on my face and kept hold of them.”
She sat there, taking it in, becoming infected with it. She was probably jumping to the next logical question. What would sex be like with a man she couldn’t embrace?
She blinked. “Can I touch your toenail?”
He stared at her in stunned silence.
“Or your nose? Can I touch the tip?” She squinted and her lips bowed downward.
So fucking cute. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
She was so still, studying his nose, her hands cupped in his. “How do you not know?”
His laugh stumbled out, as awkward and confused as he was. “No one has ever tried to touch my nose.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Maybe.”
“Then let me touch it. The teensy-weensy tip.”
The challenge in her tone suspended him in a moment of lucidity. Wonderful things were going to happen with this girl. She would push him. Maybe even fix him. If his nightmares chased her away, though, if she ran out the door, his existence would go up in an inferno.