Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
It’s because we’ve both felt something way bigger than ourselves at work.
“I love you, Bridget,” I tell her. Kissing away every tear, pressing them to her lips with mine.
“I love you, and I wanted to get out of my car and tell you the first second I saw you.”
Smiling and sniffing back her tears, she takes a moment to find her breath to tell me the same thing.
“I love you, Ash. And I know you love me. I love you more than…,” she thinks for a moment, and lost for words, I give a firm flex of my manhood still deep inside her.
“Love me more than this?” I ask, grinning like a maniac.
She replies with a gasp and her own flex. Her love tunnel hugging my swollen cock in reply.
“I love you,” I tell her again.
Sealing the deal with another kiss, we both realize that those three little words, as meaningless as they can sometimes sound from other people, mean the world to us now because we both know what we mean when we say them.
It means Ash and Bridget. My woman with her man.
And it’s a forever thing, a pact made in the middle of a storm, with a new life that’ll soon be growing inside her.
Our own new life only a day old, but I still wish I’d only told her sooner.
I vow to tell her and show her just how I feel every chance I get from now on.
“I love you,” I tell her again. And again and again, as we lay together all night.
The storm is still raging outside, but I’m not bothered by it anymore.
In fact, I think thunderstorms are my new favorite thing next to holding each other like we are now. Like we’ve never held anyone or anything before.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bridget
My first night together with Ash, having him hold me the whole night through. Hearing both of us tell each other a hundred times, we love each other and more.
It’s better than any fantasy because I know it’s real.
We talk about anything and everything until the storm passes and the sun’s streaming through the shutters.
But mostly, we talk about what we both want. For each other and for the kids, I know I’m gonna have with Ash.
I mean, the baby we both just know he’s put inside me.
He explains how glad he is the house is unfinished. “Because now we can decide which rooms need what…for all of us,” he says not so cryptically.
Because I know what he means.
I feel like I could lay in bed and talk all day, but a sudden fatigue hits me, and Ash promises me it’s okay if I wanna sleep.
“You can sleep all day if you want,” he says because I know he’ll watch over me. It’ll be his perfect excuse to spend the day doing what he does best.
Protecting me, making me feel safe just by being here.
I’m half wondering how he gets by on so little sleep himself, it isn’t long before I can’t keep my lids open a second longer.
It must be around noon that they dart open. The sound of a truck that isn’t Ash’s outside, then his deep voice carrying up to our room, makes me jolt wide awake.
I groan, throwing my head back against the pillows, knowing that it must’ve been too good to be true for long.
All my old self-doubts, my anxiety about work, and my parents. The fire, everything. It all hits me like a stone.
Part of me thinks it’s my parents. Come to give me the grounding of my life, while the more reasonable part of me suggests that it’s probably just one of Ash’s neighbors stopping by to say hi, seeing as he hasn’t been out this way so long.
But he said his nearest neighbor was miles away. Why would they drive all this way? How could they even know he was here?
Only one way to find out.
Getting out of bed, I wince with a sensation that feels like I’ve run a marathon. Even though the furthest I’ve ever run was just enough to catch a bus.
But this is different.
A kind of happy ache that I feel inside and out. The mark of Ash’s claim on me is permanent.
The little post-virginal soreness I feel is bound to be something I’ll have as a reminder for a few days yet, I tell myself.
Slipping into one of his robes hanging on the back of our bedroom door, I can see firsthand just how big he really is compared to me.
And yet we’re a perfect fit.
I make my way to the top of the stairs, straining to hear what’s being said outside. But Ash has closed the front door, and I can hear his firm but friendly tone talking to a vaguely familiar voice.
Stifling a groan of frustration, I tiptoe my way back to the bedroom window, creaking it ajar just enough to hear.