Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I'm an asshole for telling her that we're stranded. I know I am. But she was ready to walk out of my life, and I panicked. I need to keep her here a little while longer. Just long enough to…what? Convince her to give me a chance? Figure out what the fuck is happening to me? I don't know.
All I know for sure is that today is the most fun I've had in a long time. She's the first person who has looked at me like a person in even longer. She hasn't asked a single question about the band, my career, who I know, what it's like to be a celebrity, or any of that. She looks at me like I'm just a man.
I forgot what that was like. I forgot how it felt to sit beside a beautiful woman and just be a normal fucking dude.
And Christ, she is so pretty. Every damn time I look at her, I feel stupid. Anyone can grind at the gym until they have the perfect body. They can hire whatever surgeon they want to perform whatever miracles they want. None of that will ever make you glow from the inside the way she does.
It won't change the light in your eyes or the unguarded way you laugh, or the sweet way you smile, either. There's just this softness about her, this realness, that's rare. It's so fucking perfect.
"Loralei," I groan, my thumb running over the head of my cock when her big doe eyes flash behind my eyes. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, the sound of her laughter echoing in my head. My stomach muscles contract, my balls drawing up.
I come with a groan, my seed spilling down my hand and spraying across the shower wall. I grunt, locking my legs to keep myself upright. My heart pounds, every muscle in my body going loose at the same time.
"Fucking hell," I pant, my head drooping forward. I watch as my cum swirls down the drain, my cock softening. For long moments, I just stand there, trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing.
I'm too young for a midlife crisis. But maybe that's exactly what this is. I ran away from every responsibility I've ever had to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I lied to Loralei just to keep her here. To what end? What do I really expect to happen here?
My whole life is paparazzi, stadium shows, and a never-ending parade of parties, public appearances, commitments and obligations. Hers is her books. I saw the way her entire face lit up when she talked about the library. That's where she belongs. It's what makes her happy.
My world would make her miserable. But some part of me wants to slot myself into her life like I have a right. I don't. I'm just the motherfucker who nearly ran her over.
For her sake, maybe that's all I should be.
"Dammit," I mutter, grabbing the soap to scrub up as frustration churns through me. I don't want to be a story she tells years from now. I don't want to be the rockstar she thought she was stranded with once upon a time. I want her to know me—really know me. And I want to know her, too.
It makes no fucking sense, but I want some piece of her to belong to me, some piece no one else has. And maybe I want her to have some piece of me that no one else has, either. I want to carry some part of her with me when I leave here.
And eventually, I have to leave here. I can't hide forever.
Truthfully, I'm not even sure why I came. I just knew if I didn't leave, I was going to snap. I was staring at a bottle of whiskey, thinking how nice it'd be to drown myself in it. That's a problem. A big fucking problem.
I don't want to be the guy who trips down that path. I've been there once, nearly lost everything because I let myself get so out of control, and I swore I wouldn't do it again.
So…I called the band, told them I was taking a hiatus, rented the cabin, and left. Now that I'm here, I feel calmer, less like I'm one sleepless night from throwing everything away just so I don't have to carry the shit any longer.
Loralei has a lot to do with that. Doesn't matter if I just met her. She excites me in a way nothing has in a long goddamn time. That means something. At least, it should.
I turn off the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist before I step out onto the fluffy rug. The mirror is fogged over, steam still swirling around the small bathroom. For a moment, I just stand there silently, trying to hear her moving around in the cabin, but it's quiet. Too quiet.