Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I growled and fucked her harder.
Tori giggled through a moan. Her hips started jerking on the edge of the counter, lifting up and grinding down.
My groin throbbed.
I was going to come.
“Jamie,” Tori whimpered. Her legs tightened. I felt her back arch away from my hand and her mouth open on my cheek. “Oh, God. Please don’t stop. Please. Please …” She started shaking.
Her warm, slick pussy clenched around my dick as she moaned yes yes yes.
I forgot how to breathe. Hips thrusting, my orgasm raced after hers. I felt desperate. I couldn’t stop.
“Fuck,” I panted, pumping two … four … five times and then, “Ah, God, fuck, I’m comin’. I’m comin’.”
A jagged groan escaped my mouth as I yanked her close, buried deep, and finished inside her. The muscles in my legs and arms twitched. I felt Tori’s warm breath tickle my neck and her fingers stroke up and down my spine.
She wouldn’t let go of me.
“Babe,” I rasped, hearing the alarm on the oven.
No fucking idea how long that had been going off.
Tori collapsed back, not caring about it, and pulled me down on top of her. And I went. I sure as fuck didn’t care about anything else but this right now.
Her. Us.
I was never letting go either.
She held me close, limbs circling my back as our chests matched with racing breaths. Her fingers in my hair. Her lips moving over my ear.
“This feels like forever,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes, thinking the same. The alarm kept sounding.
Pizza was ordered an hour later and eaten with her sides—roasted potatoes, all-day green beans, and biscuits.
We tossed the burnt-up pork chops in the trash.
Chapter Twenty-one
TORI
I blinked at my bedroom ceiling as Jamie dozed beside me, his breath warm and sleep-heavy on my neck. His arm across my chest and the other under my pillow, elbow bent and fingers curled into my hair.
This feels like forever.
I exhaled a breath. Knees bending, I tug my toes into the mattress and fought the urge to squirm.
Yep. That was me. I’d said that. Those words totally crossed my lips.
Not that I didn’t mean them, because I did. It wasn’t just the afterglow of fantastic kitchen sex speaking. I really, truly, felt this thing with Jamie becoming something bigger. Outlasting and enduring. This love overwhelmed me.
I could see it next month. And deep into the winter. I could picture Jamie a year older at twenty-nine with his hair longer and messy on my pillow. I could see next summer’s sun on his skin and feel the heat of it beneath my palms.
This feels like forever.
It did. So I said it.
And he said nothing. Nada. Zip.
At least not right away anyway. And definitely not in response to the honesty pouring out of my heart.
He said get you cleaned up and pork chops are burnt—what’re we orderin’. He told me I looked sweet after I changed into the well-worn shirt of his I stole. He pulled me on top of him and held me while we watched the Orioles spank the Yankees, easy conversation flowing like it typically did.
And then Jamie passed out after murmuring Night, babe into my hair and throwing his limbs around me.
But forever? There was no talk of forever. No baby paired with some meaningful, heart-heavy look. No feelin’ it, too. None of that.
My stomach was knotted tight. I couldn’t close my eyes. I felt restless.
Crap.
This was seriously bothering me.
Carefully, so I wouldn’t wake Jamie, I slid out from underneath his arm and out of bed, then I tiptoed out of the bedroom, padded down the hallway, took the stairs, and headed for the kitchen.
Peering into the fridge, I grabbed a Pure Leaf off the shelf and a baggie of cut-up veggies. I nudged the door closed with my hip and moved to stand at the island, then I snapped into a carrot while blank-staring at the countertop.
My thoughts spiraled farther and farther into freak-out central as I chewed. I never should’ve said it. I never should’ve said anything about forever.
I should’ve just told Jamie I loved him, or that was amazing, or you’re right, I never gave him that. I had options. Great options. Fantastic options. Options that could’ve and should’ve prompted a response that had absolutely nothing to do with food or the aftermath of sex.
Instead I chose to skip a thousand steps ahead and leave Jamie behind.
My little cartoon heart curled in on itself and pouted. Then a frightening thought entered my head. What if he never caught up to me? What if Jamie stayed at the I love you now step while I waited waited waited for him, and he never wanted to move?
What if he was forever happy at his step? Oh, God …
I shoved the rest of the carrot into my mouth and twisted off the cap of my sweet tea.