Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Resting back on the seat, I roll my head to the side and look at him, taking him in. He stares ahead as if a part of him doesn’t want to leave either.
A girl can dream.
But we can’t sit here all night despite wanting to. Time is ticking, and I hate it.
Not wanting to rush through our ending, I whisper, “What time do you leave?”
“We need to be on the road to Austin by six o’clock for our flight.” He rests his head back as well, his gaze dipping down to my hand before reaching over and taking it. Holding it in his, the comfort of his thumb runs over my knuckles. “We made a mess of things, huh?”
I’m not so sure he’s asking more than stating the obvious. “I suppose we did.” The high I was riding has faded, and my mood has turned somber. “And I still owe you one,” I add with the softest of laughs, hoping the levity will clear the gray skies from between us.
Half a smirk is satisfying enough. “I’d say we’re even. You’re not the only one who enjoyed themselves. Watching you was . . . it was pretty incredible.” He shifts and says, “Tell me you’re not just lonely, Pris.”
Reassurance wasn’t on my bingo card when it came to Tagger, but maybe I previously overlooked a vulnerable side. Or maybe . . . this meant more to him than he’ll admit. Is it wrong to hope for both?
He’s always so strong, so if he lets his guard down around me, does that mean he feels safe to do so?
I can hope.
Turning my hand over, we weave our fingers together, and I hold him like I have the strength to keep him here, even if for only one more day.
I won’t lie to him, though, not about this. “I do get lonely. But not with you around.”
He releases my hand to caress my cheek. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
No promises can be made.
I catch his drift without the words being spoken. When his hand slides back to his side of the truck, I look down at my lap, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. He’s right about this being a mess, and I’m not sure it can be cleaned up without someone getting hurt, a.k.a. me. It might be too late to keep that from happening.
He’s lived in my imagination for half my life. The real thing was even better. But that means it might be time for me to let him go, to free him from a situation he didn’t create. I look back at him, knowing what’s right and what’s best for him. I hold my chin high and my gaze steady on him. “We’ll always have the memories.”
I unbuckle and open the door to avoid dragging this out longer than it needs to be. It was fun. He was great. I’ll look back fondly one day, probably from that rocking chair next to Lauralee, and remember this all being worth it. The kisses, the orgasm, and that look in his eyes that, for one moment in time, I was his everything. I was the prize.
God, I think I just broke my own heart.
Swinging my legs out the opening, I’m just about to jump when he grabs my arm. When I look back, he says, “C’mere.” Running his fingers into my hair, he leans across the divide and pulls me closer.
Our mouths meet, this time with care. There’s no crashing of lips or frenzied kisses. No, he takes his time as if I’m being memorized. Slow strokes of his tongue around mine, lips that embrace every part of my mouth, and the hold he has on my head makes me think that he doesn’t want this to end either. But I’ll never ask. It’s not fair when he was always planning on leaving. I knew the risk I was taking.
His eyes are closed when he leans his forehead against mine, and his breathing is staggered as if he feels the same as me. He lifts his head and searches my face once more before landing on my eyes. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
I nod since the words are stuck in my throat. I pull away and hop down to the ground. With my hand on the door, I look back once more. It’s easy to find the will to smile when I’m greeted with one of his own. “See you around, Tagger.”
“Here, take this.” He tosses his black cowboy hat in the seat next to me. I take it, though I probably shouldn’t. It’s a nice hat, but now I have memories attached. I set it on my head, which makes him smile. “See you around, Pris.”
I shut the door and walk toward the house, not even bothered by the name anymore. Now it would sound strange if he called me anything else. I’m quiet going up the wood steps and give my permission to turn back just in time to see him still there watching me. He raises a hand, then shifts into gear and turns around.