Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“No. But she said I needed to be your friend.”
My heart leaves my throat, swan diving into the pit of my stomach. “So you’re here because of Maren?” I grunt a laugh, running my hands through my hair and turning away from him. “That sounds like a more logical explanation.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
I can’t look at him yet. My feelings are pinned to my shirt like a gaudy nineties corsage.
“None of this makes sense,” he says. “Not taking four days instead of the required two. Not booking a flight to San Bernardino while my fellow jumpers are managing fires. Not introducing you to my grandmother. Not this need to kiss you when I have nothing to offer but someone else’s version of friendship. None of it makes sense.” He blows out a long breath. “Yet here I am. Fumbling my words and wallowing around outside my comfort zone because I made you my person, and you don’t fit in my life, but my life no longer fits me without you.”
Oh, my heart . . .
I turn. Fitz has never looked this tortured. The tension in his face. The resignation in his eyes.
“Are you here for me or you?”
The lines along his brow dig deeper.
“It’s not a trick question.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know how I want you to answer. Just honestly.”
His gaze drops to the floor between us. “When I purchased the plane ticket, I was coming here for you.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “When you entered the restaurant, I knew I was here for me.”
I lied.
I wanted him to say that, but I didn’t know it until two seconds ago. That’s the thing with love; it’s untimely, unannounced, and underestimated. It’s not a choice. It’s a state of being.
How do I tell Fitz that he loves me?
I don’t.
He’ll work it out on his own.
By then, I might be married to another man and pregnant with twins, but nonetheless, I’m overjoyed about Fitz and his wallowing heart. Better late than never.
I lift my shoulders and drop them into an exaggerated shrug. “We could kiss. And it could be our version of friendship. I don’t want anyone else’s version. Do you?”
His hand slides along my neck until his fingertips brush my tattoo. “No. I don’t,” he whispers before kissing me.
I close my eyes while he drags his lips from mine to my neck. “Come back to my place,” I murmur.
“Yeah?”
I grin. “Yeah.” I dig into my pocket and fish out my key fob. “You drive. I’m a little too intoxicated.”
He takes it from me, eyes narrowed. “We didn’t have alcohol at dinner.”
“You.” I turn and open the door. “I’m drunk on you, Fitz.”
It’s a ten-minute drive to my apartment. I still can’t believe he never mentioned his grandma when I told him about my job here. She’s a ten-minute drive from my apartment.
It’s not a coincidence. It’s fate. Right?
He parks my Jeep and leans over the console to kiss me. It takes several minutes to drag ourselves out of the vehicle. We meet at the back of the Jeep and kiss again. Fitz presses my backside against the spare tire. Our kiss grows into something that feels too intense to control.
Lifting me to him, he slowly treks toward my building.
“The . . . the key . . . ring . . . ,” I pant as he kisses my neck.
My back hits the side of the building while he fumbles with my keys, finding the card to scan. The door buzzes, and he opens it with one hand while his other hand claims my ass.
I stop him before he heads up the stairs. “D-down the hall, last on the left.”
We stumble into my tiny efficiency apartment and waste no time in discarding our clothes.
“Jaymes, you have a fucking twin bed,” he mumbles over my lips when I push him back onto my single-size mattress.
I giggle. “I’m aware.” I kiss his chest and abs, my fingers brushing his scars before my tongue makes a slow swipe up the length of his erection.
His head stretches back while a satisfied moan vibrates along his chest. I straddle him, guiding him between my legs. My heavy eyelids surrender when I sink onto him, hands flat on his chest.
When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with an intoxicated gaze and soft lips that he occasionally wets with a lazy swipe of his tongue.
I lean forward, grinding against him, and he lifts his head, mouth on my breasts.
“God . . . Fitz . . . that feels . . .” I lose my words and mind.
His hands tangle in my hair while he kisses me deeply, slowly moving with me as the moonlight through my one-way windows washes over him, shadows flickering across his face when I sit up.
We are whispers of labored breaths and flesh colliding.