Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Okay?” I whisper, and he groans, rolling me onto my back, our connection unbroken, and resumes our kiss. Still so controlled and easy, I don’t know how he’s doing it. This could easily get out of hand, become vehement, but he doesn’t want it to be that. Passionate, yes, and it is, but not out of control.
Not fucking.
Dec blindly takes my wrists and places them gently over my head, kissing his way up to my ear. “I’m perfect,” he whispers, gently biting down on my lobe before using my arms as a wedge to prop his torso up and look down at me. And he really looks at me, grinding, retreating, plunging, rolling. I exhale sharply on every advance, breathe in deep on every retreat. I don’t need to tell him I’m reaching the point of no return. I want to bury my face somewhere, clench my eyes closed to deal with the eruption coming, and yet while he’s gazing at me as he makes love to me, fracturing the eye contact is impossible.
My lips part, my back arches. Dec’s nostrils flare, his jaw twitches, his eyes turn wild. And then he jerks, stills for a moment, and pushes deep and high, holding himself inside me as he shudders, and I go with him on a whimper as an upsurge of pleasure hits me and charges through my body like a tsunami, calm but devastating.
Every muscle starts to ache from me tensing to deal with the onslaught, as Dec shakes above me, a sheen of sweat glistening on his top lip, his hair damp and falling onto his forehead. He collapses to one forearm, his head hanging, his throbbing length swelling against my inner walls. He breathes, laboured, and I reach for his back, dragging my fingers lightly up and down his spine, smiling to myself when he quells a growl at the back of his throat and pulls his shoulder blades in. His body comes down to rest on mine, but he doesn’t release his full weight, holding himself with his bent arm, his face going into the crook of my neck. I feel his tongue lick the column of my throat, and I close my eyes, tickling his back, relishing his constant kisses on my neck.
And we stay there, close, sleepy, quiet, for the longest time. Holding each other. Connected. Peaceful. No urge to run out.
Because when you love someone, you do everything in your power to keep them safe. And I love you bone fucking deep, woman. Every broken, beautiful piece of you.
“Thank you,” I murmur sleepily.
“Shut up.”
I smile to myself and settle into the darkness, not scared of it today, or of my dreams.
December 19th
Low, blinding sunlight blazes though the window, making me squint when I open my eyes. It takes me a few slow moments to register where I am. Who I’m with.
What day it is.
The inevitable twist of my stomach confirms it, and I lift my head off Dec’s chest, looking up at him. His eyes twitch behind his lids, his lips are parted, his breathing’s light. Peeling my body away, I creep to the edge of the bed and go to the window, looking out onto the winter wonderland that today looks even more wonderful with the sun blazing down on it. The snow sparkles under the rays, a kaleidoscope of colours swirling in the various patches of frost. Looking up at the blue sky, I note the beautiful scene won’t be around for long, given the cluster of dense white clouds hovering close by, ready to swallow up the sun and sprinkle more snow, making perfect what wheels and feet have ruined since the last flurry.
December nineteenth.
You’re not supposed to be this beautiful.
I reach for the open curtains and slowly pull them closed, shutting out the day. When I turn around, Dec’s watching me. He lifts the duvet and moves onto his side, and I pad over, slipping in and crawling into his chest, getting as close as I possibly can, my front pressed tightly to his, my face tucked under his chin. He brings the duvet down over us, covering our heads too, and wraps me in his arms. Protecting me from the world.
I crane my head back to see him in the dim light of our secluded, private space. I just have to see him and look into those eyes and imagine everything will be okay. And he lets me, remaining still and quiet as I study every beautiful bit of his face, reaching for his scruff and stroking my palm across it. I trace his lips, his cheek, his nose, his brow. “You’re very handsome,” I murmur, but he doesn’t smile at the reminder of one of the first things I ever said to him.
“You’re very beautiful.”
I rub the pad of my thumb across his chin. “Dominic was having an affair.” There’s no surprise from Dec. Nothing. But he does pull me a little closer. “I’m not mad, I’m not even sad, and I don’t know why. But it hurts still. Like someone’s reached into my chest and ripped my heart out, and yet by some cruel miracle, I’m still breathing. Like I’m numb but still in fucking agony.”