Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“I understand,” she whispers, still laboring to breathe.
The sharpest edges of my tension turn smooth at her agreement. There are more hurdles to get over, but she’s not denying that I own her body, thank Christ. That would have sent me over the edge. “We’re going through a rough patch right now, but we’re going to get through it, because we love each other in a way no one understands. No one has a love like this. No one but us. So you’re going to trust me. Do you understand? Trust in me, beauty. Remember who I am. Remember I live for you. And come to the fight on Friday.”
She turns her head, her dazed eyes locking on mine over her shoulder. Wariness creeps into them, but there’s adoration, too. There’s love, thank God. “I’ll be there.”
Pressure seeps out of my chest, our mouths meeting in a slow kiss, tongues reacquainting themselves, my dick hardening again where it remains tucked inside of her tightness. But there’s a loud banging on the door, voices on the other side. We’re occupying the only men’s bathroom in the bar and this isn’t the place for a classy girl like Gracie, anyway. I should be shot for fucking her in here, no matter how much she enjoyed it.
Reluctantly, I pull out, zipping my semi into my jeans, before drawing the panties back up her legs and covering her ass with that skirt. She turns from the door and reaches for a paper towel, no doubt to clean up the mess I made between her thighs, but I stay her wrist. “Leave my come where it belongs.”
Without giving her a chance to protest, I lead her back out into the bar, tucking her into my side when we receive several knowing looks. I deliver her back to Tanya’s side, kissing her on the forehead. It’s tearing me up to leave her there when all I want is to bring her home, sleep wrapped around her, inhaling my wife’s scent. But I can see she’s already trying to retreat from me. It’s right there in her stiff shoulders, her downcast eyes. And I know, I know nothing is going to be repaired between us until I show her, until she sees that I’m the same man she fell in love with. The same man she married. That, as always, everything I’ve done has been with her happiness in mind.
“Good night, Gracie,” I whisper, kissing her hair.
“Good night,” she breathes, looking like she wants to reach for me.
But she doesn’t.
So I turn to go, heart in a stranglehold, counting the seconds until Friday.
Five
Grace
The arena is a madhouse.
As soon as I arrive at the will call window, where I know North will have left me a ticket—and I’m right—a large man approaches me, informing me that he’s my bodyguard. He’s wearing a suit, an earpiece and doesn’t seem interested in chit chat. He simply blocks me from the crowd and hustles me forward. I’m not naïve enough to ask why North arranged a bodyguard. If he’s throwing a fight for member of organized crime tonight, there’s always the possibility of trouble. Inviting gangsters into one’s life causes trouble, period.
That’s why I left him, isn’t it?
The organ in my chest beats dully, as it has since Tuesday night. I’m not handling the separation well at all. Yes, North is still watching me from short distances, following me to and from work, but the lack of touch, the lack of his voice is beginning to take its toll. I’m doing my best to eat and remain healthy for the baby, but the life is draining out of me slowly. And when I glance up and see a two-story image of my husband on a banner hanging in the rafters, a stark yearning almost collapses me.
Somehow I make it to my front row seat, dropping onto the leather cushion heavily. There is already an exhibition fight underway, though the majority of the arena is only now beginning to fill. For the main event, starring my husband.
My…Daddy.
In every sense of the word now.
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve replayed our encounter at Whiskey Tavern. How he made his hands on me feel forbidden, his tongue in my mouth corrupt. By the time he entered my body in the bathroom, I was another person. A temptation. A young girl causing an older man’s downfall. A participant in something taboo. Wrong.
I had no idea how much I hungered for those secret words and touches, but apparently I do—and that’s an understatement. I’ve been trapped in a constant state of arousal since North left me in the bar. There’s no way out, except through him. Another round of his treatment. Another, another, another.
Up in the boxing ring, one of the men knocks the other down, the referee rushing forward to slap the mat. The boxer doesn’t get up in time and a winner is declared. Almost the entire arena is occupied now, music blasting, men walking up and down the aisles selling beer. I feel completely disconnected from my surroundings. Like I’m not even here. It’s all just happening around me on a projection screen.