Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“That’s not better.” I argue and I don’t even know why.
“Go to bed, Lucy.”
The way he says my name does something strange to my chest. I push it aside and set the mug on the coffee table.
“I will.”
He nods once. Then moves toward the door.
I hesitate. “You’re leaving?”
He glances back. “Unless you want me to stay.”
My heart stutters. Do I want him to stay? Yes, actually.
“No.” The answer comes out faster than I mean it to.
His expression doesn’t change. “Okay.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push. Just accepts it. And for some reason, that makes it harder.
I stand, pulling my robe tighter around me. “Thank you,” I say again. “For tonight.”
He opens the door. “Lock it behind me.”
“I will.”
He steps outside. I watch him for a second. Then close the door and turn the lock. The click echoes louder than it should. I lean against the door for a moment. Breathing. Trying to settle everything swirling inside me. Then I turn off the lights and head to bed.
Sleep comes fast. Too fast. Going through everything with Roger and the adrenaline crash after, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Before I know it, I’m in a deep sleep. I’m dreaming. It’s the kind of sleep where I know I’m dreaming, but it feels real.
Too real.
I’m standing in my living room again. The lights are low. The air is warm. And Tucker is here. Closer than he’s ever been. His hand brushes my arm. Slow.
Intentional.
My breath catches. “Lucy,” he murmurs. The sound of my name in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“I shouldn’t—” I start.
But the words don’t finish. Because he’s closer now. Because my body is leaning toward him instead of away. Because his hand slides to my waist and pulls me in.
And then, his mouth is on mine. Lips to lips, bodies close.
The kiss is deep.
Slow at first. Then not. It’s passion and fire. Desire, need, want, and a weird sense of security in his arms have my entire body on fire. Heat blooms low in my stomach, spreading outward, making everything feel too tight, too intense.
My fingers curl into his shirt. I should stop. I know I should. But I don’t. The world narrows to just him. The way he touches me. The way he says my name again, softer this time.
And then everything blurs.
Movement. Breathless tension that builds and builds until I feel like I might go crazy if I don’t find a release.
I gasp. And wake up.
My body is tacky with sweat, my core clenched and unsatisfied. Sleep is hard to find again as I toss and turn, my mind and body both angry at the empty bed and cold sheets.
Morning light spills across my bedroom. My heart is racing. My body feels warm in a way that makes me immediately bury my face in the pillow.
“Oh my God.” I groan softly.
Why would I dream that? Of all people. Tucker. Sure, he’s attractive.
Very.
Annoyingly so.
But that doesn’t mean anything. I have enough complications in my life, he doesn’t get to be the next one.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I do not need complications in my life. I definitely do not need that kind of complication. Because my track record with men is, well complicated. I don’t choose men who make me a priority. I don’t choose men who give me safety and security. I choose men who take me on wild rides that I can’t get off of even when I fall apart.
I drag a hand over my face and sit up slowly.
It was just a dream. That’s all. Nothing more.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, grabbing my robe as I head toward the window.
Outside, the morning is calm. Quiet. Normal.
For a second, I wonder if last night was real at all. If maybe I imagined it. The fear. The doorbell. Roger. The prospect.
Tucker showing up—I pull the curtain aside. And freeze. Because there, on my front porch is Tucker. One arm behind his head. Boots still on. A duffle bag I’ve never seen before tucked under his head like a pillow.
Asleep.
Guarding my front door.
When he should have shut all of this down and out because he has a life all his own, he didn’t. When he should have left to go do whatever it is bikers do, he didn’t.
He stayed. He slept outside to make sure my daughter and I remained safe and unbothered.
I’m not sure what to say or how to feel. The only thing I know is seeing him like this makes something in my belly get squishy and soft. And it’s not an unwelcome feeling.
But it is one that I know can be dangerous for my heart.
TEN
MELLOW
I wake up to the sound of a lock turning. Not fast. Not panicked. Soft metal shifting, followed by the quiet creak of a front door opening.