Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I roll us over, pulling her on top of me, needing her to see, to feel the truth in everything I’ve confessed. Her hair falls forward in a dark curtain, shutting out the rest of the world until it’s only us, as she braces her hands on my chest.
“Look at me,” I rasp, gripping her hips. “Don’t you dare think you’re not enough.”
Her eyes meet mine, and when she finally moves, it nearly shatters me. The sight of her above me, vulnerable and open, unravels me.
Each roll of her hips is a promise, each sigh a reminder of what’s already between us.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan. “You and me. Always.”
A tremor runs through her as her nails bite into my skin. The way she clings is proof she hears me, even if she’s not ready to say it back. Her pace falters, but I steady her hips, guiding her into a tempo that drives us both higher.
“Oliver,” she whispers, my name breaking on her lips, torn between fear and need.
“Let go for me,” I say. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
Her body tightens as she splinters apart, clutching me like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat. Seeing her this way, face flooded with pleasure and trust and something dangerously close to surrender, rips me apart.
A few deep thrusts later and I’m coming hard with a noise that doesn’t sound human. My hands stay locked on her, as if it’s possible to fuse us together. My release spills inside her, and all I can think is that this woman is mine.
She belongs to me.
The same way I belong to her.
She collapses against me, hair draping across my torso, as I wrap my arms around her. I stay buried inside her, unwilling to let the connection fade. Her skin is damp with sweat as her pulse races against mine. Little by little, she sinks into me, the tension easing from her frame.
I press a kiss to the crown of her head, my lips lingering like a promise. “You’re enough,” I murmur into her hair. “You’ll always be enough.”
She makes a small sound, almost a whimper, but doesn’t pull away. Her hands fist weakly at my chest, then loosen, fingers splaying open like she’s finally letting herself rest.
It doesn’t take long for her breathing to even out.
Even in sleep, she searches for me, tucking closer until the warmth of her breath feathers against the hollow of my throat.
Maybe it’s nothing.
Or maybe it’s the smallest bit of trust.
She never acknowledged what I said, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe silence is all she can give right now.
If that’s the case, I’ll take it.
I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
And hopefully someday, she’ll believe it.
She’ll know she’s enough because I’ll never let her forget it.
I roll us carefully onto our sides, keeping her tucked close, our legs tangled together under the sheets. My palm spreads protectively over her stomach, and she shifts into my hold, as if her body already knows what her heart is too stubborn to admit.
The glow of the city lights seeps through the window, painting her skin in a faint gold. I study her in the dim light, memorizing every curve. I remain awake long after she begins snoring softly, because I don’t want to let go of this moment.
Her body is pliant against me now, trusting. By morning, that trust will be gone, especially with the world outside this room waiting to test it.
Evelyn’s comment from earlier rings in my head.
She’ll try to push you away.
Maybe she’s right.
Maybe Rina doesn’t fully trust me yet.
Maybe she won’t for a long time.
But that won’t stop me from proving she can.
One small touch at a time, until she does.
41
Rina
Oliver’s gone by the time I wake the next morning. The last thing I remember is the muted rush of the shower drifting from the bathroom after he nuzzled me before getting out of bed. The sheets are now cool where his body was, the indentation already faded, even as his scent lingers on the pillow.
It’s clean spice and something I’ve come to recognize as innately him.
And I can’t seem to get enough of it.
My muscles ache in a way that reminds me exactly what we did last night. For one reckless moment, I almost let myself believe what he whispered against my skin.
I almost let myself believe I could stay in his arms and be safe.
It doesn’t take long for reality to press back in at the edges, reminding me just how dangerous it is to want that kind of comfort.
Dangerous to need it.
To depend on it.
I shove those thoughts aside and dress quickly for work, tugging my blouse into place and then smoothing the lapels of my blazer. Anything to give myself the illusion of control.
As tempting as it is to stop by Lakeshore Sweets, there isn’t time. I have a meeting at nine, and after yesterday’s disaster, I need to project professionalism in every way possible. The last thing I can afford is to give Hugh or Evelyn another reason to question me.