Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I tug her dress up her body, yanking it off over her head before I lay her out in the middle of my bed. Late afternoon sunshine floods the room, spilling across her porcelain skin. She's beautiful, her lush curves making my cock ache and throb like a motherfucker.
The scars across her abdomen and side make my stomach clench. They're old and faded now, but I still remember when they weren't. Christ, I still remember when she was bleeding all over me, dying in my arms…
"Be here with me now," she whispers as if reading my mind. She holds her hand out toward me, her eyes locked on my face. "Please, Teo."
I exhale a breath and nod, leaning down to brush my lips over the worst of the scars. She jolts beneath me, her muscles quivering. "I'm so damn sorry, butterfly." I lift my gaze to hers, my lips still against her skin. "For everything."
"Me too," she whispers back.
I rest my lips against her skin for a long moment before pulling back. I take a breath before yanking my shirt off, knowing what I'm revealing to her—the depths of my obsession, the breadth of my devotion.
She gasps, her gaze roving all over my chest as she tries to make sense of the tattoos whispering our history from every inch of available skin. I keep them carefully covered most of the time, keep this part of myself private. She's always been just for me—my memories, my world. I fucking hate sharing her with anyone, but I needed her with me in a way that couldn't be undone.
"Teo," she whispers, lifting her gaze to mine. "Are those…?"
"Yeah, butterfly," I say, my throat raw. "They're you. They're us."
"How long?"
"I got the first one the day before I left for college." I swallow hard. She came to see me that day, to tell me to go live my life. "I think I knew then that I'd broken us because the look in your eyes—Christ, you were so fucking sad, butterfly. I tried to tell myself that you just needed time and that I could fix it. But I think deep down, I knew that I'd fucking broke us. I hated myself for it."
"I broke us too," she whispers, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"As soon as Zoya drove you home, I went to the shop and got this." I point out the tattoo—a butterfly designed from her initials. "I needed you with me, even if you hated me."
"I never hated you," she sniffles. "Never, Teo. I waited so long for you to kiss me. When you finally did, I felt like I finally had everything I wanted. And then it all got snatched away. It felt like you were choosing football over me. I couldn't understand what I did to make you hate me so much that you'd be so cruel." Her bottom lip quivers. "If you wanted to leave so badly, I didn't understand why you had to kiss me first and tell me that you loved me. Why couldn't you just go? It would have hurt less."
"Christ," I groan, crawling onto the bed with her. I straddle her, wiping tears from her eyes. "I never wanted you to feel that way, Nadia. I was a selfish prick. I'd waited my whole fucking life to tell you how I felt. I didn't want to leave without you knowing. It was so goddamn selfish of me, but I needed you to know that you were it for me. Instead, I fucked it all up."
"We both did," she says, threading her fingers through my hair to brush it back from my forehead. "We were dumb kids who made dumb mistakes and said dumb things. And now, we get to do it over." She smiles, a tremulous, watery smile. "We get to do it right this time."
I brush my lips against hers, tasting the salt of her tears. "I'm not fucking up with you again, Nadia," I vow against her lips. "Not this time. Not ever again. I know what it's like to live without you. I can't do it again."
"Me either," she whimpers. "I hated it every single day, Teo."
I groan, flattening my body to hers, trying like hell to eradicate every inch of space between us as I kiss her again, deeper this time, sealing my vow and soothing her hurt. She won't ever feel it again. No matter what it takes, I'm doing shit right this time.
I owe it to her and to myself. And we owe it to the kids we were back then—the two who loved each other like crazy but just didn't understand enough about what it takes to make love work in a world like this. Those kids were always endgame. It just took them a hell of a lot longer to get to the end than it should have taken.