Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
The roller coaster of our lives never stops plunging. I’ve never experienced a true calm, and weirdly, I don’t think it’s what I’ve been searching for in Victoria.
“How does what feel?” I ask…my boyfriend? Is that even what he is? I take a hearty sip from the bottle. Not tensed or uncomfortable. I’m just taking it all in. Me. Him. The newness of us together for real.
How I’m sitting cross-legged on the counter.
How he’s standing and angling his weight against the cupboards, just to face me. Just to be inches away. Just to be near.
“Telling your mom no for once,” he clarifies. “How does it feel?”
I texted my mom a short voice memo. I told her she’s not matchmaking me and Rocky. Straight to the point. Nothing incriminating. If she wants to delete it, she can.
“It feels like she’s blowing up my phone,” I say as the screen lights up on the counter beside my kneecap.
My stomach plummets seeing her panic in real time.
“You care for her still?” Rocky asks.
“Not like I did,” I say sourly, and pass him the Pinot. “It hurts. She hurt me, and I guess it feels like the woman I knew died. I don’t even know who this person is anymore.” It’s why I’m not reaching for the phone to respond.
She can wait.
Rocky seems understanding. We’re all slowly coming to terms with our parents’ betrayal, and I don’t expect either of my older brothers to have the same exact reaction as me. Not when we all had different relationships with our mom.
“What about you?” I ask Rocky. “How does it feel taking several hundred steps away from them?”
He lifts the bottle to his mouth. “Like we could take several hundred more.” He swigs.
I wonder what will satisfy him. If anything really can. “We could be on different continents from them and I bet it wouldn’t be far enough for you.”
He licks wine off his lips. “Distance doesn’t make my heart grow fonder.”
“What does?” I ask. “Death?”
He widens his eyes. “Now there’s an idea.” He forces a dry smile.
“Plan to kill me, too?” I force a tight smile back.
He sets the Pinot on the counter. “My heart, or whatever’s left of it, is already too fucking fond of you.”
Breath sputters in my lungs, and my smile goes unsteady when his smoldering gaze traces over my features. We’ve only had sex once. But it was also with the pretense that we would be together for real and that the one time would turn into two times, then three, then a hundred thousand.
If this is actually a date, which I’m starting to believe yes, it is, Phoebe, then I imagine sex will follow…or start?
Honestly, I never really conceptualized what a real date with Rocky would be like. But regardless of what happens next, sharing time alone in a kitchen sounds about right.
I’m not dressed to the nines. I’m just wearing white sweatpants with an embroidered strawberry on the butt pocket. Wet strands of my hair stick against my chest and soak my cropped blue T-shirt from a recent shower.
My face is bare of makeup. My lips are only coated with Aquaphor to combat cracking.
Whereas Rocky is still in expensive navy-blue slacks and a black Calvin Klein tee. The cotton molds to his biceps, and I ache for those strong arms to wrap around me. To hold me so tightly and throttle feelings that I only ever feel with him.
Without thinking, I rest my palms flat behind me and uncross my legs. Spread my knees apart. “You want to fuck me, Ex-Husband?” I ask him quietly.
“Fake Ex-Husband,” he corrects, his eyes glued to mine. Somehow, it’s more intimate—Rocky staying fixed on my face rather than my pussy. His control heats my core.
“Fake Ex-Husband,” I echo. “And Real…?”
“Boyfriend,” he declares. “That okay with you, Fake Ex-Wife?” Yes, yes, yes!
I smooth my lips together, a way too big smile trying to form. “It kind of sucks.” I shrug.
“Liar,” he calls me out casually, lovingly.
It softens my smile, and I peer past the cozy living room where two bookshelves flank a brick fireplace. A tiny hallway leads to two bedrooms, and right now, those doors are shut. I told Hailey to take my bed since Trevor has been crashing in hers.
The sofa has my name on it tonight.
There’s such a slim chance either of them will wake up, and the risk that they might sounds oddly exhilarating.
Looks like I still love Danger with a capital D.
So I tempt Rocky a little more by lifting the hem of my shirt to my collarbone. No bra. I let him see my breasts and hardened nipples. The left one has a barbell piercing.
Again, he doesn’t look.
What the hell.
My pulse suddenly races at the unknown trajectory of us, and my cheeks warm. “Afraid someone might walk in?”