Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
His face falls. “No, I want you there when I get home.” He kisses me again.
“Honestly, I’ve got to move tomorrow, anyway. I have to be up at the crack of dawn.”
“Fucking alarm,” he mutters under his breath. “Give me your phone.”
I dig around in my bag and fish it out. He takes it from my hand and dials his number, the two of us watching as his phone vibrates. “Got it,” he says. He licks his lips as he stares down at me. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”
I smile up at him and I feel my heart flutter.
“Why don’t you come to my office with me now and we can leave your car here?”
“No. Call me tomorrow.” I frown. “Actually, with the move tomorrow, perhaps you could call me Sunday instead.”
He kisses me slowly and I smile against his lips. “I’ll see you Sunday, my little Tully Pocket.”
I laugh. “Can you think of a better nickname for me than Tully Pocket? I sound like a toy.”
He smiles cheekily. “You can be my toy.”
I roll my eyes and get into my car. He closes the door for me. I wind down the window to see him better, and he leans down to kiss me through it. “You drive carefully,” he says.
“Yes, Dad.”
He taps on the roof of the car, and I drive out of the parking lot, giving him a shy wave as I go.
My eyes rise to watch him in the rearview mirror as he climbs into his expensive car, and the farther away I drive from him, the more I feel the disgust in myself begin to rise.
I wake to the sound of my alarm blaring. I wince and quickly slap my hands over my face. I can’t handle today. I’ve cried all night. I’ve never been so disgusted in myself in my entire life. I let a guy who I didn’t even know, fuck me up the ass in a public bathroom. I’m a low life—a lower than low whore bag. My eyes fill with tears as I think of Simon. My beautiful, gentle Simon. The man who would never take me anally. The man who only ever made me feel good about myself.
What have I done?
I’ve forced him into the arms of another woman, that’s what.
God, what would he think of me if he ever knew what I did. I drag myself into the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
An ugly version of myself stares back at me. A dirty version.
My apartment is quiet and sombre. So lonely.
I get into the shower and pour the soap onto my hands. I begin to wash myself as more tears form. I scrub my skin until it is red raw.
How do I get this feeling of disgust off me?
Make it stop. I slide down the tiles until I’m sitting on the floor, crying the shame away.
Chapter 5
“That’s the last one.” Peter smiles as he puts the heavy box down on the floor.
“Thank you so much, Pete.” I sigh as I reach up and give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Anything for my sister.” His eyes hold mine and he keeps me in his arms. Feeling uncomfortable, I pull from his grip.
Peter is my stepbrother. He‘s also a detective downstairs. Along with the boys from work, he’s spent all day moving me in. The others finished about half an hour ago. It’s just turned 7:00 p.m.
Peter produces a bottle of champagne from a box, and I smile. “I thought we should celebrate,” he says as he pops the cork. I rustle around in a box and find two coffee cups for us to use. He fills our cups slowly.
I take a sip and my eyes hold his.
Here’s the thing, and I’ve never told a soul this, but Peter is attracted to me. I know he is. When I was twelve and he was fourteen and our parents had just met, he expressed his undying love for me. I told him then and there it was never going to happen, but over the years I’ve felt his eyes on me when he thinks I’m not looking.
I always thought I’d imagined it, but lately, and especially since his wife left him, and I broke up with Simon, he’s been lingering around after our conversations, as if he wants to say something else.
I don’t like him that way. I see him as a brother, and to be honest, I’m kind of beginning to feel uncomfortable being alone with him. And I hate that because we do get along really well. I just wish I didn’t have this feeling lurking over me; like he is going to put it on me at any moment, every time we speak.
“You might be scared tonight,” he says.
I smile and begin to unpack a box of cups into the kitchen cupboard as a distraction.