Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
All the more reason to do it then, isn’t it? All the more reason to make the most of these stolen moments. Who cares if I come out of this in pieces? Who cares if I’m ruined for every man, for everything else in this world? If he can’t have me, I don’t want anyone else or anything else to have me either. But for once in my life, I want to live. For once in my life, I don’t want to be afraid. Not of the only man who’s ever made me feel alive, not of love or what it might do to me.
So I take off.
I bound down the stairs and start running toward him. I notice him move. His long legs striding over to me, and the closer we come to each other, I see that he indeed is frowning, concern running rampant on his features. But I don’t know how to slow myself down, either my pace or my feelings, so he’s going to have to find a way to be okay with it. He’s going to have to find a way to be okay with me crashing against his body because at the speed I’m going, it’s going to be a collision. A major impact.
And he does find a way. Before I make it to him, he widens his stance and plants himself on the ground like a tree or a mountain so when I do collide with him, he stays firmly rooted and provides a safe space for me to land. When I climb his body like he’s taught me, he gives me a boost and within seconds, I’m wrapped around him like I usually am while we’re riding on Tulip.
“What the—”
I squeeze my arms around his neck and cut his growl off. “How long?”
His frown only thickens. “What?”
I’m panting and I know I should slow down, but again, I can’t. “How long has it been? Since it started.”
At last, he gets it. The realization makes him lose his frown, but his jaw pulses. His eyes flash and his arms around me flex. Then, in a rough voice, “Seven months, three weeks, six days, nine hours, and nineteen minutes.”
I let that pass through me like a shiver before I say, “It ends now.”
“What?”
I bring my hand to his face, to his scar as I brush my thumb over it with all the love in my heart. “Enough watching.”
His jaw pulses again and his arms around me tighten to the point of pain, the kind I’ve come to love. “What the fuck do you mean?”
I run my eyes over his face, sharp and beautiful, the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, before I command, “Kiss me.”
He tenses but otherwise stays silent.
As always, I don’t let it deter me. “Put your mouth on me. Now.”
His jaw is ticking.
“You’ve got three seconds.”
Finally, he growls, “Or what?”
“One.”
“Don’t fuckin’—”
“Two.”
“You don’t fuckin’ know what you’re askin’.”
“Three,” I whisper.
His chest pauses mid-breath.
Not mine, though. I let out a breath of relief because the wait’s finally over. The wait of seven months, three weeks, six days, nine hours, and nineteen minutes is at an end. Smiling, I whisper, “Time’s up.”
“Peyton—”
And then I put my mouth on him and I die.
Or at least that’s what it feels like. Given the death I’d always pictured for myself, it feels like a great way to go. It feels like the first time I saw him and thought he was an angel, something otherworldly and unreal. Something I wanted to touch so badly but never could. For a million and one reasons. Not anymore, though. I am touching him, so I guess it feels even better than seeing him for the first time.
Although I didn’t take one thing into account. I don’t really know what I’m doing.
I’ve seen other people kiss before, not only on-screen but also in real life, but I’ve never been kissed myself. In fact, I’ve actively avoided it. For all my bravado, I’ve spent my entire life avoiding someone touching me in ways only he has, and that includes letting someone put their mouth on mine. And this is even more of an uncharted territory because I’m the one putting my mouth on someone.
Even so, I know I want to document everything. If this is the only kiss I’ll ever have with him, I want to memorize every single detail of this. So I start slow.
I focus on his mouth itself. I always knew it would be soft because his lips are all plush and full. But I never could’ve imagined just how soft or bouncy. So much so that every time I move my lips against his while giving him soft pecks, I get the urge to bite him. I get the urge to sink my teeth into his soft, swollen, pillowy mouth and then suck on it. Like a lollipop or something. Is that too girlish? Or too young? Maybe. But I’ve never felt more my age than I do in this moment. Not even during those awkward moments when he makes me blush with his playful words.