Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” Slowly, he pinned her wrists above her head, his breathing pattern beginning to change, along with hers, his sex swelling against her inner thigh. “But I do know there is nothing that could keep me away from you.”
Chloe’s growing appetite for Sig battled with that nagging dread, which was transforming from a mere feeling to something concrete. A clear picture that she could see and read and predict. Conversely, Sig wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d known that from the time she’d arrived at the hotel. As usual, he was considering her first. Them first. He’d implied he would give up playing hockey for the Bearcats because of her. Because of their relationship.
Never.
She would never let him give up his dream.
Would never let him do something so destructive.
With a walnut-sized object stuck behind her windpipe, she lifted her hips for him, their groans filling the room as he fit himself home inside her and started to rock.
“Tell me about Sweden again,” she whispered, blinking back the tears in her eyes. Tears that turned to a warm glaze when the headboard started to thump against the wall once more. “Are you shirtless and chopping firewood in our yard?”
His chuckle turned into a groan. “Who am I to deny you that view?” He leaned down and lapped at her nipples, one by one, his eyes pitch-black as he sucked. Watching her. “There’s a frozen pond in back. Where I’m teaching our kids to skate.”
His mouth roamed back up her body and over her lips, seducing any thoughts straight out of her head, except for the ones that concerned him and the fantasy world he spun with his words. “Kids,” she breathed. “You want kids.”
He tilted his head, regarding her with an overwhelming amount of love. Adoration. “I want to watch you be a mother.”
His weight bore down harder, more insistently, something a little animalistic and wicked flickering in his expression a split second before he flipped Chloe face down and pumped into her from behind, leaving her screaming into the pillow, nails clawing at the sheets.
“I want to make you one, too,” he rasped in her ear, his calloused thumbs digging into her hips. “Keep this ass up like a good girl and let me practice.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Chloe cried the whole way to Grace’s penthouse.
Pierre sensed something was wrong, keeping his sleepy head in her lap in the back of the Uber. Wordlessly, the driver passed her back a box of tissues over his shoulder, which made her cry all the harder. Okay. She’d give herself until the end of the ride. Then it would be time to suck it up and be a grown-up.
Nothing could keep images of last night and this morning from bombarding her brain, but she could control how she reacted to them. At least, on the outside. When she thought of Sig lifting Pierre onto the foot of the bed last night and covering him with a spare blanket, before flipping on the Home Shopping Network so she could fall asleep to her preferred soundtrack, she wouldn’t sob and break down and faint dead away on the street.
She’d keep moving.
When she thought of the way Sig had kissed her so passionately when he left for the airport, making promises to call her as soon as he landed, she wouldn’t unleash an unholy scream over the twist of guilt in her stomach. She would keep breathing. Keep living, even if her heart was in jagged, petrified pieces all over the floor.
“Are you okay back there?” asked the driver hesitantly, clearly hoping she wouldn’t respond. Or that she would say fine and leave it at that.
Well, too bad.
She was cutting off the love of her life to keep them both from losing everything.
“No, I’m not okay.” Moisture tracked down her cheeks and she mopped them up with a Kleenex. “This is my first time being the strong one.”
“Ohhh. I see.”
“So far, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I don’t know if I’m going to be very good at it.”
The driver seemed on the verge of answering, but Chloe’s phone rang. Thinking it was Sig, her pulse skipped approximately eight beats. Was this going to be the first time she didn’t answer one of his calls? But no. It wasn’t Sig.
Sofia was calling.
“Hello, Mother,” she answered, holding on tighter to Pierre.
“Chloe. You don’t sound well. Has Boston finally gotten the better of you?”
Chloe dropped her head back against the seat. She wanted to say no. Wanted to lie and say things were better than ever, but she didn’t have the energy to lie. “Maybe so.”
“Aw, my poor dear. I hate to hear that.”
“No, you don’t,” Chloe blurted. And it felt fantastic. Because unlike the evening she’d stood up to her mother at the dinner table, she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t feel guilty for calling out her mother’s passive aggression, either. In fact, she felt capable of letting those words hang between them without qualifying or backpedaling. “You don’t hate to hear I’m having a bad time. You’ve wanted me to fail in Boston since the beginning.”