Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Oh, so it’s worse than the fact that you’re my ex-boyfriend’s dad, and you’re a decade and some older than me?” Her eyes sparkle. It’s amazing that we’ve gotten to the point where we can joke about this.
“I’m going to quit my job.”
She looks poised to laugh before she studies me at a level that’s nearly hairy eyeball official. “Holy poopers. You’re not joking.”
“No, I’m not. I want to leave the company and do my own thing. I don’t know what that is yet, but I’d like to just be able to breathe. I’d like to do something that makes me feel like I do right now. Just purely happy. I don’t want to say that I’d like to take a chance on us working because taking a chance sounds so wrong. It implies that it would be a mess or there wouldn’t be trust or effort put into it. It sounds lazy and haphazard.”
This is as vulnerable, walls down, and heart open as I have ever been with anyone, ever. I know it’s not some grand, romantic gesture, but judging by the expression on Amalphia’s face, she reads it for exactly what it is. She doesn’t tell me that I’m crazy. That I should reconsider. She believed me about the worst of all this right from the start, which is more than my own parents ever did.
There’s been a string pulling us together right from the start, and I feel it now. It makes my heart hammer, and it makes me believe that the dumbest things I could ever hope for or even dare to say might not be dumb at all.
I’ve made a life out of refusing to be emotional because emotions just lead you straight into stupidity, and that leads you straight off a cliff edge of trouble that will haunt you for the rest of your days.
“Do you…” I have to pause to catch my breath. “Do you think that’s dumb?”
Amalphia is silent, her eyes huge, but she shakes her head quickly. “No.” Her hand hovers in the air for a second before she gets brave enough to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. She strokes my cheek and runs her fingers through my beard, sighing as if she’s one of those very rare women who actually adores facial hair. “No, I don’t think that’s dumb at all.” Her eyes mist over. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not very good at this.” She bites down on her bottom lip, her nostrils flaring adorably. “Maybe we should watch the stars?”
She slips her hand down, trailing her fingers gently over my shoulder and letting them fall to my wrist. Before she slips her hand into mine, she plays with my fingers, stroking them in a way that shouldn’t have me breathing heavily, but it does.
She spreads out on the floor, looking up.
I mirror her pose.
We’re shoulder to shoulder, and it takes everything in my power not to just lean over and kiss her. Her face is so close. I could slip my nose into the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. I could wrap my hands around her waist and lift her right onto me so she’d straddle my waist. Would she lean forward and kiss me, grinding down on my cock at the same time?
Fuck. The stars. Right.
They’re lovely stars and all, but I can’t stay focused. After a few seconds, my eyes glance over, caressing Amalphia’s side profile. The lights are even prettier as they reflect off her face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the soft slant of her nose, her thick fringe of lashes, and her luminous eyes.
I’ve been all over the world, but have I ever stopped for just a few seconds to look up and appreciate the stars and the infinite nothing and everything that is out there?
I’ve sometimes felt that Amalphia has been able to see straight into my brain and know what I’m thinking. She does it now, sweeping her arm up and over as she curls into my side. She lays her cheek on my shoulder and side hugs me. I need that. So very much. Her warm breath fogs against my throat.
It’s official. This box fort is going to be my final resting place because I’m dead.
I’m dead, and so is my self-control.
I angle my face down and find her looking up at me, her lips parted.
I pull her into my arms as I roll onto my side. I capture her mouth, and her hands grasp my shirt, instinctively curling up in the soft fabric to pull me closer. Her lips part automatically, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth, tasting her as she moans and writhes against me. All that action traps my cock in my pants, and I have to reach down to adjust myself, which means accidentally kicking out. Unfortunately, I’m at the perfect angle to smash my foot straight into one of the walls.