Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Leaving isn't an option. I can't even imagine doing it. Just thinking about that as a choice makes my skin grow tight and my breathing become uneven. I know I could never manage it. Even if I walked out of the door, I doubt I'd be able to make it down the mountain before turning back and begging him to keep me.
"You're making me nervous," he says when I take the turn toward his bedroom at the top of the stairs rather than going back to the room he left me in to make my decision.
"You have no reason to be nervous," I assure him.
Once we're in the room, I notice the moment he spots my purse on the bedside table. I'm smiling when he turns his attention fully back to me. His eyes drop to my lips, and despite the exhaustion running rampant in my veins, his attention there causes a nearly uncontrollable yearning inside me.
I have a million things I want to say to him, but I know there are some things he might think he's ready for but really isn't. I don't want to scare the man off, and if we're talking about being together for a lifetime, then we have plenty of time to ease him into the idea of just how deeply I feel for him.
"I know words are hard for you," I begin, reaching out and taking his other hand so we're facing each other completely.
"They are," he quickly agrees. "But I promise what I can't say, I can show."
I believe him. I also believe that there will come a time when the emotions are too big for him to deal with and he'll want to push me away. He's already done that once, and it left me feeling discarded like trash, and I can't live a life wondering when it'll happen again.
"You told me to think about being together, that it was a lifelong commitment that I would be agreeing to, but I have to ask the same thing of you."
His eyes dart back and forth, searching mine as if he's confused.
"I can't be in your life one minute and the next you tell me to leave."
"You're mine forever," he says as if the declaration makes it true.
"I'd like to be," I tell him with a swallow. "And the only thing that worries me about that is your ability to just shut down and walk away."
"I've come to terms with the idea of you."
I do my best not to huff with exasperation, but I fail.
He holds my hands tighter when I try to pull away.
"I know how that sounds," he says, gripping even tighter on my hands. "I really do, but look at it from my point of view. I've spent my life with the barest minimum of connections. My head is a really scary fucking place, and just being able to confess that to you should tell you the level of trust I have in you. It makes me vulnerable. It's a weakness, just like I thought having connections did, but now I understand that I'm stronger with you by my side. I've had to come to terms with changing who I thought I was to accepting who I am with you. Does that make sense?"
"It makes me sound like a weakness," I mutter, understanding some but not fully wanting to carry that burden.
"You are, aren't you? If someone wanted to hurt me, they could easily do it through you. That's why this branch of the Cerberus organization was supposed to be connection-free. If I had nothing to lose, then no one could control me, but I'm not upset that I found you." He releases one of my hands only to lift his to my face. "I was missing a part of myself, and I found that in you."
Tears spring from my eyes. For a man who doesn't do emotion very well, he seems to be hitting home runs at the moment.
The man may never be able to actually say words I'll want to hear, but I can already feel his devotion in his touch. I lean into his hand on my face, the tears now flowing freely from my eyes.
"I'm not the best at deciphering emotions, so bear with me. Are these good or bad tears?"
I pull in a deep breath when he swipes his thumb over my cheek, attempting to wipe them away.
"I want to stay," I confess.
"Yeah?"
I hate the surprise I hear in his voice, as if he thought I’d be able to walk away. It seems we both have some things to work on as far as showing the other how we feel.
"I don't deserve you," he whispers, his throat working, sadness in his eyes, as if he thinks this is the beginning of some long goodbye.
I shake my head, hands coming up on either side of his face. "Yes, you do. I may not know you well, Pax Hart, but I know you're a good man. We deserve to be happy together."