Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
In the dream, at least, I could. I tilted my face to the side, looked for him, and he caught my mouth in a slow, searing kiss that felt so real I tasted him. Then his hands slid down to my hips, my thighs. He nudged my feet apart with his, until I was standing spread out against the glass, the city below us, close enough to give me vertigo almost, except the adrenaline only added to the moment, made my heart beat faster with desire for him.
I can’t remember what I was wearing. Some sort of skimpy lingerie thing. It didn’t matter. Lark had soon torn it off anyway, tossed it aside like so much refuse. Then his hands were back on me, searing, strong and in control. He reached over the arch of my hips and trailed his fingertips over the smooth plain of my belly, holding me pressed tight against him so I could feel the hard press of his cock against the small of my back, already rock hard, wanting me.
His fingers slid over my mound, cupped my pussy and gently wrapped around it, the heel of his hand pressed lightly against my clit, his fingertips spreading my lips stroking slowly along the length of my slit. The glass pressed against my front was cold, but Lark’s warm, naked body crushed against my back was searing hot, and oh God, he felt so good I almost lost control right there.
I let my head fall back against his shoulder, my lips parted as I gasped with pleasure, as he pressed a finger inside me, gently swirling it around, testing me.
“God I love feeling you shudder against me,” he murmurs, his breath hot again, tickling the back of the shell of my ear. He licked along the very edge of that shell, making me shiver from head to toe, and chuckled faintly, as though he were enjoying himself.
He liked it whenever I lost control. I knew that much by now.
And even in my damn dream, he certainly made me do that. He spread my legs wider, pressed the thick shaft of his cock between my thighs, and then—
“Cassidy.” My therapist’s usual calm manner can’t hide a faint tinge of concern now.
I wonder how many times she had to say my name before she got my attention. I flush and straighten in the chair. “Sorry, I…my mind wandered off.”
Her eyes soften. “I want you to try to get some sleep tonight, all right?” she says. “Decent sleep. If you’re still struggling to in a few days, let’s talk and see what we can figure out, okay?”
I nod, trying to focus on her, on the bright office. On anything but the damn dream that woke me this morning, hours before my alarm went off. A dream that made me afraid to fall back asleep, worried I’d only start to dwell in the past even more profoundly than I already am.
She asks me about schedules for next week, and I pencil in my new time, then rise on unsteady legs to shake hands and show myself out of the office.
It’s not until I step out into the hallway that I turn my phone back on. It’s one of her policies. No phones in the room, because they might ring or buzz with a text and interrupt the flow of our conversation.
When my cell reboots, it chirps with a new text. I tap it open, frowning at the sender. It’s a local area code, but otherwise the number is unfamiliar, and not attached to anybody in my contacts. When I read it, my lips part, my stomach sinking.
All it says is, There’s something you need to know about Lark.
21
Lark
I stare at the ceiling of my bedroom. The bedroom I had custom-designed to my order, because I was finally, finally going to start doing things my way. I was going to pursue what I wanted, live the life I wanted.
Instead, it’s all been stolen from me. Again. In the exact same way that it is always stolen, because I failed, yet again, to anticipate the consequences of my own actions. I have no one to blame for the way I feel right now. No one but myself.
I shut my eyes, my hands clenched in tight fists. But that’s no respite. Because behind my eyelids, waiting for me, the same way she always is, every time I close my eyes and lay my head down on this pillow at night, is Cassidy Marks.
I can still picture the last glimpse I caught of her, before she shut her apartment door in my face. The pained expression on her face. The hollow look in her pretty brown eyes. I did that. I put that there. And no matter what excuses I gave her, no matter how I tried to talk my way around the full story, she’s right.