Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
"Oh, I'm enjoying myself." His nostrils flare in a way that makes my belly flip. "Believe me."
Heat rushes my face, making my scalp tingle. "I've got to go to the bathroom," I squeak, shooting out from my side of the booth. "Be right back!"
Then I'm bounding across the length of the diner and down the hallway where the restroom sign directed, still feeling flushed all over. As soon as I'm in the stall, I run my hands down my face.
Oh my god. Am I seriously going to literally run the fuck away every time Domhn so much as flirts with me?
I'm just enjoying my time with him so much, I don't want to switch suddenly because he's got me hot and bothered, and it freaks me out for some stupid reason I don't even understand. I finish in the bathroom, then go wash my hands.
The face that looks back at me is sun-kissed.
I shake my head at her. Today was fun, sure, but good Lord. Mads can't handle emotional intimacy, and I can't handle physical intimacy.
"What a pair we make," I whisper to the mirror. "Hello? You there?"
Mads doesn't answer back.
EIGHT
DOMHNALL
We've settled into bed for the night after what's become the usual routine with Anna: dinner, and then quiet conversation, with her usually tucked on my lap. I crave the sense of peace that settles over me when I'm with her.
I'm almost asleep, arm draped over her soft waist, when the bed shifts, and I know before my eyes even open—Mads.
Sure enough, Mads flips in my arms, a flash of movement. "Hi, baby, it's me. Have a long day?"
I tense for a beat before forcing my body to relax. I've been trying not to do that, to not make her feel like I'm pushing her away.
"Mads. Hi." I squeeze her waist, a reflex and silent assurance. I don't reject you. But I don't know how to hold you without breaking... everything.
She notices, of course. She always notices. And just as quick, she yanks off the silk nightie Anna wore to bed, the fabric whispering away in the dark.
Then she's pressing against me, her bare skin like fire against my own. A leg hitches over my waist. My cock hardens before I can stop it, a traitor to the constant battle I wage against myself.
Anna says she wants this. She says it's okay for me to take what's mine. That it's okay for me to take Mads. She looks at me with those calm, knowing eyes and tells me I don't have to choose—she accepts all of herself and wants me to do the same.
So why am I still fighting it?
Because the truth is, I am still pushing Mads away. Not for Anna's sake. Not anymore. Now, I'm my own prison guard, locked in a cage of my own making.
It feels like giving in means losing control.
My hands find her thighs, fingers digging in. She gasps, her breath stuttering, and the sound is pure sin. But before she can go further, before I let myself sink into this, I slide her leg back off me to put space between us.
She huffs in frustration. "Why can't you give in?" Her nails drag lightly down my thighs, teasing, tempting. "You waited so long to have me. Now you've got me. What are you fighting against?"
Myself. The darkest parts of me. The ones I swore I'd never let loose again.
Before she came back into my life, I'd stopped questioning why I was like this. Why I could only get the most satisfying pleasure when I was causing someone else pain. Only when they wanted it, of course, but still.
The truth is, I've been trying so hard to take it gentle with Anna at night, only to find it wasn't Anna at all. It was satisfying, in its way, because it was her. And I'd rather drive a screwdriver through my own eyeball than hurt her.
But I crave her. I crave this. And that hunger has been clawing at me for too long without me letting my beast out of his cage.
I exhale and roll onto my back, covering my face with my forearm. "I'm just trying to figure out what's right."
"What's right?" Mads lets out a sharp laugh. "What about what you need? And what I fucking need?" She yanks the sheet up over herself, pulling away from me. "Or do you not want me anymore?"
My stomach clenches. "You know I do."
She turns toward me, those wide, knowing eyes scanning my face. "You either want me, or you don't," she continues. "It's your body. Do with it what you want." She starts to pull away again.
My hand snaps around her wrist, firm but not unkind. I tug her back. "You know that's not true."
She shivers. I feel it in my grip and in the way her breath catches.