Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The punch to my gut is swift, defying any reasoning I thought I had anchored myself in to justify this apartment. But how could I miss what was happening right in front of me with him? I’m not on the same axis I once was, and I’m adapting to change as fast as I can. I’ve been reckless, even careless of how this might affect him. “Standing on my own feet doesn’t mean standing without you, Poet.”
I go to him, holding his face in my hands, and admire the man he’s become since we met. Back then, he was a student working his ass off to make a future for himself. Now he’s living the life he wanted.
He’s so much stronger despite the path he was forced down. His strength of character was always at the forefront. It’s enviable. I had the dreams but not the power. But what upsets me most is that I let it happen. I can own my part and carry that shame, but I should use it to my advantage instead. I say, “I can never do enough to earn the love you’ve given me so freely, but I’ll do my best to repay you in spades.”
“I prefer kisses, and if we’re really talking, spades pale in comparison to a blo—”
“Yeah. Yeah. I get it.” I burst out laughing and kiss him. “Seems you get the point as well.” Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head on his chest because, other than how much I love being this close to him, I love hearing his heartbeat even more. “I love you.” Looking up, I rest my chin on him, and add, “If you don’t want the apartment, I don’t want it either.”
“That’s not my decision to make, Spark.” He strokes my hair back from my face. “But if you’re asking me if I think you should get it.” Sliding his hands down my body, he settles them on my hips. His touches always ignite a fire between us and trigger a chemical reaction in my body. I can’t get enough of him, but I control myself since the apartment isn’t mine just yet. “I’ll be over anytime you’ll have me.”
He meant what he said.
After carrying this beast of a king-size mattress up all those flights of stairs, we discovered he does indeed have some spots he’s still recovering from, although he insisted he didn’t. Now we’re both wiped, and I feel bad.
He crashes on top of the memory foam mattress in the bedroom, his weight forcing it to tuck in nicely at the sides. Grumbling, he says, “The mattress stays with the apartment.” His eyes are closed and feet hanging off with his arms spread wide. That’s an invitation if I’ve ever seen one, and a sexy one at that. “I’m never moving it again.”
I don’t bother to remind him that he was moving it because he refused to pay movers when it would be, and I quote, “A piece of cake.” I also won’t laugh or rub it in his face. There won’t be any I-told-you-so’s because that’s not part of the new life we’re building. I kneel and crawl onto the bed cougar style, though I’m two and a half years younger than him, and lie beside him on my back. I’m giddy to have the first slice of a new life installed, and grin like a fool while staring up at the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed the watermark before . . . I’m sure it’s something that can be fixed or painted over. I prefer the view next to me anyway, and with a little nudge of my elbow, I suggest, “We could break it in?”
Clearly, he didn’t miss the hope that rang through my tone because the most cunning smile I’ve ever seen him produce is elicited instantaneously. He rolls onto his side, reaching over to pull me close. I swear I’m the size of a doll compared to him. Our hips meet, and his erection is evident in the connection. Even denim can’t repress how hard he is for me. Kissing my head, he whispers. “I like this idea.”
I turn in his arms, quickly, and slide myself under him before our mouths collide. But this isn’t what I want. I press my palms flat to his chest and pressure him to lie on his back again. As soon as he’s flat, I toss my leg over and mount him, then lean forward to seduce him with my lips on his.
Sharp pieces of his new dusting of scruff scrape across my chin, but I’ll wear the raw redness in the aftermath and soothe it later. I rock my hips over the seam of his jeans’ zipper. The roughness feels so good through the thin material of my yoga pants, encouraging me to press harder. It wouldn’t take me long to reach an orgasm, but I remind myself of my purpose. To thank him for all he’s done for me. And I know exactly how to do it.