AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things had turned out differently?” she asked groggily.
“Constantly.”
What if August had kissed him back that night? What if he’d never met Ellery? What if she hadn’t been stolen from him in such a cruel and unpredictable way?
“Me too.”
The instinct to ask her what she would change surged through him, but he held his tongue. There was no point getting into such things. The what-ifs of life could eat you alive. It was better to put your head down and keep going.
Wondering was dangerous.
“I think about that night a lot.”
He didn’t need to ask which night she was talking about.
“What might have happened if I hadn’t been so fucking afraid.”
Her whispered voice prickled at his resolve, but he resisted. This conversation could go nowhere good. His brain scrambled to find the right thing to say, but emotions had never been his forte. He was a blunt instrument, a greyhound chasing a marker.
He only knew forward. Speed. Focus.
“Shh.” He brushed his hand over her hair, smoothing his fingertips over her temple with each stroke. “It’s a busy day tomorrow. You should sleep.”
For a moment, he thought she’d drifted off, her breathing turning even and her body becoming soft and pliable. Holding his breath, he didn’t dare move until he was sure.
Ten, nine, eight...
He’d been holding himself in check—holding every basal, lustful urge in check—because he wasn’t here to put a move on her in a vulnerable moment. He cared about August as a person. He wanted good things for her...which didn’t include him.
But it was getting harder and harder to deny the fact that when he looked at her, there was nothing platonic about it. That those feelings he once had, all those years ago, were still as alive as ever.
She sighed and shifted position on the bed, the gentlest brush of her ass against his crotch yanking open the floodgates. He hardened in an instant and a groan stuck in his throat.
Balling his hands into fists, he willed himself to remember why he didn’t want to get involved with anyone ever again. As he was about to extricate himself from the bed, she moved again. This time the action was absolutely and undeniably on purpose, and knowing that made him even harder. The smarter part of him screamed to get the hell out of there, but she felt so damn good in his arms.
Soft, smooth, warm.
“We shouldn’t...”
“We shouldn’t or you don’t want to?” Her soft voice was like a whisper of smoke disappearing into the air.
“It’s not about what I want,” he said, closing his eyes. How could he be so weak to end up in this position again? “If it was, then...”
No, don’t say that.
She was still in his arms. “Then?”
Dammit. He rested his cheek against her hair, his arm lying over her body where she’d placed it. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her rib cage, the slight hitch in her breath, the warmth radiating from her skin.
“If it was about what I want, then I wouldn’t be hesitating.” He bit back a curse. “I wouldn’t be wrestling with myself.”
“Can it be about whatIwant, then?” She let out a shaky breath. “Because I don’t want you to hesitate. I don’t want you to walk away.”
Need coursed through his veins and he found himself rocking against her, the desperate need for friction like a chant in his blood. It had been so long. Too long.
Not long enough.
But it would never be long enough, in his mind. It would never be long enough until he was six feet under.
