Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I hung on to her every word so I could learn more about this woman who became more beautiful and complex with each passing day.
“That sounds astounding—or awe-inspiring. I don’t know.” I laughed. “I’m trying to come up with a word big enough for what you explained.”
“It can be hard without experiencing it.” She nodded in understanding. “But, yeah…I kind of became obsessed with it after that and made my mom teach me everything she knows. She said she could only teach me the basic steps, and I had to learn the rest by telling a story of my own.”
“That sounds difficult,” I mused. “I can only do basic dances that my mom taught me so I could dance with her at events in case my father couldn’t come.”
“Yeah, I know a few of those for my dad, too.” She scrunched her face before shrugging. “I’m not great at the Bomba, but I like listening to the music and moving my body in new ways to create something original and different each time. It makes me feel closer to my mom.”
“I would love to see you do a full dance someday if you’re willing to show me.”
Her smile grew, and it was as if the sun shone only on her. “Yeah. Someday.”
The warm goo didn’t just spread—it flooded me, consuming me so thoroughly I struggled to breathe.
I struggled to breathe…
My heart raced, and I didn’t want to lose this moment, but flares of alarm alerted my body that getting hurt was imminent, and I should panic and run.
The urge to escape was too sharp for something as simple as a conversation. And that’s when it hit me. I’d become so averse to feeling good with a woman in any way other than physically that even the simplest interaction that sparked happiness sent my body into fight-or-flight mode.
The emotions piled on top of one another, crowding my chest, pressing tight against my ribs, choking my lungs.
Run. Run. Run.
I hated that voice. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I didn’t run.
But I also didn’t do feelings. Not since Daria.
The overwhelming sensation was too much, and I didn’t want to ruin this moment. I wanted to avoid everything about it altogether.
So, like I had for the past fifteen years, I shut it down—just like I had at the club. After stumbling upon Corbin doing a demonstration, I turned to find Aspen watching me with something dangerously close to what we’d sworn not to feel.
I’d panicked and shut it down aggressively.
But I didn’t want a repeat performance. Not after we’d gained so much ground today. I needed to shut this feeling down—for both of us, but I needed to do it differently than the club.
Softer.
Controlled.
Anything to keep her smile intact while I buried whatever the hell was rising in my chest.
“Would you like to go shopping today?”
Her eyes flashed with excitement. “Of course. Where were you thinking?”
“I remembered how you insulted my boring gray furniture. So, I thought we could hit up a home decor store and find some pillows and other decorations to spice it up. Maybe even a new picture to replace Jesus hanging in the living room,” I suggested, my hopeful smile more of a grimace.
Her jaw dropped, and she gasped. “My grandmother gave that to me. It’s an heirloom from the church my mother was baptized in.”
I stared blankly, not bothering to argue.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s go shopping. But no promises about replacing Jesus.”
“A man can dream.”
Her laugh rang through the apartment, and I smiled harder, liking how it sounded like home.
Just before we reached the store, Aspen’s phone rang.
“Grace is calling you?” I asked, seeing the name on the screen.
“Yeah. Why?” she said, distracted by adjusting her phone to answer it.
“I just didn’t know that you guys talked without me. What do you talk about?” Had they talked so much that Aspen might have let something slip? Had she said something that contradicted what I’d already told Grace, giving away our arrangement?
“Well, Lucian.” She fluttered her lashes over falsely innocent eyes. “I call her up every morning and vent about our horrible agreement. And then, she tells me another one of your dirty secrets that I can use against you.”
She laughed at my annoyed stare. “You’re not funny,” I deadpanned.
“I’m hilarious,” she said, shrugging and picking up the phone.
I tried to piece together what they were talking about, but Aspen gave quick answers, followed by frowns and pensive stares up at the blue sky, which didn’t give me any clues about what Grace was saying on the other line.
“Oh, no. He didn’t tell me that.”
Despite her short phrases increasing my anxiety, I avoided looking at her, trying to hide how intently I listened.
“I’m not sure I can make him agree to that.” She laughed. “Yeah, Lucian does love making agreements with people.”