Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Quinn! I need to talk to Quinn.
Sergio said that he would put her in touch with me and I need to know… lots of things. What brought her here. What she likes about this place. What she knows about Sergio…
I look at the clock. 6 a.m. It's a little later than I usually get up because I like to get an early start to the day, and I have prep to do in the kitchen for tonight. I guess I needed the rest. I’m throwing back the covers when there's a knock at my door.
My heart thumps. I swallow. Could it be that the only person in the entire world I actually hope to see is knocking on my door right now?
I open the door.
Sergio stands in front of me, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. There’s something about him dressed in casual clothes, clearly after spending the night here, that makes my heart do a strange little jumping thing in my chest. Sergio is anything but casual. It makes me want to reach out and stroke him. Touch him. The way those clothes fit him makes me feel like he’s made of nothing but muscles, and sinew, and strength.
He looks almost bashful when he runs his fingers through his hair. "You're up. I'm just checking on you." He catches me staring at his thumb stroking his stubble. I lick my lips and swallow.
And then he's in my room, and I'm in his arms, and everything else around us disappears.
I'm only aware of the way it feels being held by him. How safe I feel when his strong arms come around me. The way he smells like masculinity personified, how I feel small and delicate in his arms. He lifts me up, his hands under my butt, my legs wrapped around him. My heart soars.
His fingers in my hair, he holds the back of my head and brings his mouth to mine. He gives me a kiss, and then pulls back, searching my eyes.
I guess I'm not the only one that missed somebody.
"So, yeah, I'm good."
When his large, rough hand squeezes my butt, I squirm because it sends all sorts of frissons of awareness and nerves to every part of my body.
It's so wrong to allow a man I'm not married to to touch me that I don't even know how to unpack this or justify it.
But I let the man I am married to touch me, and he made me feel worthless. Objectified. Less than.
"Talk, baby. You're doing that thing again." Sergio brushes hair out of my eyes and holds my gaze with one phrase. “Look at me.”
I clear my throat. “What thing?"
"That thing where you're pulling back because you're letting something hold onto you. Like you have all these fears, and you don't want to say them out loud. Give me that heart check. What's going on?"
I draw in a shaky breath, because how do you tell someone your hopes and dreams? How do you tell someone that you're looking to them for some kind of salvation… for more than what humans ourselves are even capable of.
I want him to rescue me and at the same time I wanna rescue myself, and I'm confused, and I don't know how to say what’s in my heart. I don't know how to give voice to my fears.
But I try.
"I shouldn't want you to touch me. I shouldn't want you to be… intimate with me. We're not married."
"And the man that you’re separated from didn't touch you the way you wanted him to or the way you deserved to be touched."
I nod because it's true.
"Are you afraid about what might happen to you?”
“Of course. I'm afraid of… rejection. I'm afraid that… all the things they told me would happen to me if I didn't do the right thing, are going to. And I can't even begin to sort out truth from fiction anymore. So it just scares me.”
He slides me to the floor. Threads his fingers through my hair. His voice is low and contemplative when he speaks. “Believe me when I tell you, I am not a religious person. I mean, the priest at the church down the street would laugh until he died if I said that I was religious. But I can tell you this much. I don't know if I could worship someone who’s looking to trip me up. I don't know what those men did to you. I don't know what those people did to you.” He shakes his head. “Again, babe, I am not a religious man, so I can't talk about religion. But I do know people. And I know that you're worthy of a lot more than you've ever been given."
I squirm uncomfortably because I don't know how to unpack all this or what to do with it.