Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
His breath is hot on my skin, coming out in puffs right next to my ear as his hand flattens on my stomach, the fingertips not wasting a second to push past the waistband of my leggings. Every muscle in my belly squeezes tight as he lowers his hand, the tips of his fingers skating right over the middle of me and making me gasp.
"Is this okay?"
"Y-yes," I pant, rolling my hips forward in an effort to make him touch me more.
His chuckle coats my skin, and for some reason, the tone of it scratches at something in the back of my mind. My body aches for what he has to offer, but there's just something about him right now. He feels distant, as if he's not right here with me experiencing the same thing.
"Do you want me to go get someone else?"
I freeze, my blood running cold with his words.
"What?" I snap, lowering my arms and pressing my palms flat to the door at my hips.
He takes a step back, his wet fingers coasting over my lower belly before he pulls them free.
"Isn't that what you like?" he asks, blinding me when he reaches and turns on a lamp. "You like lots of people with their hands all over you all the time. I can grab Zeus. I have no doubt the man wouldn’t turn you down."
"What is wrong with you?" I manage, all the while trying to choke down the threat of tears. "I don't want that at all."
"What do you want, Caitlyn?" he growls as if he's hated me his entire life and is just now having the chance to voice that animosity.
I'm floored by the sudden anger, but I'm also in touch enough with therapy to know that this probably has more to do with him than it does with me.
"I thought we were... I don't know... at the beginning of something," I manage, knowing I'm seconds away from what may be the biggest rejection of my life, but at the same time, I'd rather get the boot than keep up with something that isn't going to lead anywhere.
"This isn't that," he says, running a rough hand over the top of his head in frustration.
"You touching me is different," I confess. "Instead of wanting to crawl into a hole, I ache for your touch."
He looks away from me as if he can't bear to hear my confessions.
"I can't give you anything more than something physical, Caitlyn. I can fuck you all damn day, but it doesn't go further than that."
I know I've felt okay with his touch because there's something between us that is much deeper than that, something neither one of us understands, but I can't force this man to understand that when he isn't ready.
"I want more than that."
"I can't give it to you. I can't offer more than orgasms. I don't have anything else in me."
I highly doubt he's being honest, but there's a reason he's fighting this connection we have, and that's his issue to work through and not something I can fix for him.
"I deserve more," I whisper, reaching for the doorknob.
"I know you do," he quickly agrees. "It can't come from me."
I swipe at a single tear, hating that I look so weak in front of him.
I open the door, swallowing down a sob, and bolt from the room.
He doesn't bother to follow me back to the room I've been given, and I don't know why I thought he would even try.
Chapter 28
Jersey
Fire bites at my skin, my back taking the brunt of the flames, but even though I throw all of my weight against the door, I can't get it open. My fists hit the wood until my hands feel like jelly, as if I pounded until the bones turned to liquid.
In a moment of clarity, instead of shoving against the door, I pull, a wave of relief washing over me when it opens.
Horror fills every cell in my body when it's as if I'm no longer in the middle of the fire but watching myself from some far corner of the room.
Instead of running toward the boys' bedroom to save them, I turn left, opening another door that I've never noticed before. Barking meets my ears, but I don't hesitate to move further into the room, my blood freezing in my veins when I see Caitlyn's lifeless stare.
Strapped to the St. Andrews cross, her head hangs limply between her splayed arms, no life left in her pretty gaze.
Glass and other debris dig into my knees when I collapse onto the floor, my hands splayed on her thighs. She's already so cold, despite the flames licking up the walls in the room.
"She deserved better."
I spin to face the voice, anger swimming inside of me at the sight of Eden standing only a few feet away. The cigarette in her mouth doesn't even move when she speaks.