Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“I’m not letting you go, Ashley,” he says, stroking hair from my face. “I’m not letting you go.”
“You don’t make that decision.”
“I already did,” he says, and he’s already kissing me again, drugging me, his hands all over my body. One hand cupping my backside, pulling me against him, into him, thrusting hard and deep. I arch into him, cling to him, the wild burn of need between us, like nothing I’ve ever experienced, except with him. It’s always there. He’s always all in, all there, demanding the same of me, taking everything. And damn him, he has everything, he has all of me, and there is no turning back.
I’m in this with this man, just as he said, to live or die.
Chapter six
Ashley
Ishudder into orgasm, burying my face in his neck, as he rolls me to my back, driving into me, a guttural moan sliding from his lips as he tilts his head back and quakes into his own release.
When he collapses on top of me, he turns to protect me from the weight of his body, and we settle back on our sides, his hand at my back. He quickly hands me tissues from who knows where, but I’m aware of our history in this moment, of me getting a shot to ensure we didn’t get pregnant. That’s how together we were. We had the baby talk. We both knew we didn’t want kids, and yet, I’d secretly wondered what it would be like to be the mother of his child. Now, I know why that would never work for him or us.
Shoved back into reality with this thought, I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing with this man. I jerk to a sitting position and try to move away, but he’s already right there, sitting with me, pulling me around to face him. “Talk to me. Just please fucking talk to me. I’m still me, and we’re still us.”
“How can I believe anything you say to me?”
“Trust your instincts. They’re good.”
“Says the man who lied to me over and over while I blindly believed him.”
“Because,” he says, “I wasn’t lying about what matters. We weren’t a lie. You want answers. I know you do. Ask your questions. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“I’m not doing this naked in the middle of a strange cabin. I need to be dressed for this conversation.”
His jaw clenches, and I can feel his need to resist, but he nods. He stands up and takes me with him, scooping up my clothes and handing them to me, his eyes meeting mine, holding my stare. He wants to say something, and I find myself hanging on a breath, waiting for some confession that either makes me forgive him or hate him all the more, but it doesn’t come. He cuts his stare and then turns away, grabbing his pants.
I toss my clothes on the table and pull on my sweater, sans the bra that takes time and awkward effort. I just need what I told him I need: to be dressed. It somehow feels safer. I’ve just pulled my jeans back on when he steps in front of me, but he doesn’t touch me.
“I won’t just kill for you. I’d die for you. I just want you to know that.” With that, he picks up the two mugs. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He turns and walks away, his words lingering in the air: I’d die for you.
Lord help me, not only do I believe him, but I don’t want him to die. I don’t want to die either. I do need those answers. I need to be smart and that means I need a gun that I can use to protect myself. Adrenaline surges through me, and I pull back on my sneakers, and as much as I just want to follow him, I need a bathroom. I scan the room and find the door I seek, hurrying inside and doing my business. One look in the mirror and I groan. My makeup is gone, except for the mascara under my eyes that should be on my lashes. My hair’s a mess, but I don’t care. I want my answers.
Exiting the bathroom, I almost expect to find Noah standing there, but he isn’t. Noah. He’s not Noah. He was never Noah. This very thought sets me back into action, and I hurry in the direction he’d gone when he’d left me to dress. I find him sitting at a small wooden table and just looking at him is like seeing him for the first time in months all over again. He’s the person I called my best friend. He’s the person I loved.
“Are you going to join me?” He motions to the hot chocolate in front of him and another in the spot waiting on me across from him, both with fresh whipped cream on top. “I heated them up.”