Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
His head whipped toward me, cutting me a narrowed-eyed look. “Silver.”
The word held a gentle warning.
Ramsay’s eyes spoke for him too.
The hope that had been building since he’d shown me the dresser turned cold and brittle and crumbled into dust. I clamped my lips shut.
He turned onto his side, giving me his back, and reached out to switch off the light.
As the room descended into darkness, I turned from him, not wanting to see his back in the shadows.
We’re not that, his eyes had said.
Tears burned in mine, and I cursed myself for letting my emotions go there in the first place.
Ramsay was merely escapism.
Yes, the sex was phenomenal.
But it was only sex.
He wasn’t a safe place to land after a couple of years of hell.
He was just … a distraction.
The bed suddenly moved and I tensed, thinking he was going to get up and disappear into his barn like he always did when I tried too hard to get close to him.
It was such a shock, then, when I felt his grip on my hips. He pulled me into the middle of the bed, curling his body around mine. Spooning me. His strong arms held me close, and he leaned in to confess in my ear, “I don’t like to talk about them. My parents. If … I’ll talk about them when I’m ready.”
This time the tears that burned my eyes were from relief. I nodded and whispered, “Okay.”
“You ever want to talk about yours, though … I’m here.”
“Ramsay …” I was confused. So confused. One second we weren’t that and now …
“I … it’s not just sex,” he murmured gruffly.
I squeezed my eyes closed, emotion thickening my throat. “No, it’s not.”
And for now, that was enough. I wiggled closer to him, covering his arm with mine and relaxing into sleep.
He seemed to understand.
Ramsay pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder and settled his head on the pillow behind me.
Just like that, I was safe again.
Problem was, I wanted to feel safe with him all the time. Not sporadically. Not only when we were having sex.
I wasn’t sure Ramsay McRae could give me that kind of certainty.
25. Tierney
The sound of the coffee machine gurgling, bubbling, and hissing had become a familiar background noise to my biweekly coffee date with Cammie and Taran. The coffee dates had started at the same time as my affair with Ramsay, over three weeks ago.
My time with the dominating, talented Scot seemed short (which, it technically was) but also not short. Not short because there was a familiarity between us that time couldn’t account for. Even though … well, I barely knew anything real about him. I only knew the Ramsay McRae who had lived on Glenvulin for six years. Who he was before that … I had no real clue. Although he’d promised he’d talk when he was ready, it clearly wasn’t going to happen in a week.
So, all I knew was that he had connections that made Hugh almost pee his pants and I hadn’t heard a word from that slimeball since our confrontation.
“Okay, I’ve tried to be polite and respectful about this, but my curiosity is killing me,” Cammie announced abruptly.
I blinked at her changed tone because a few seconds ago, she and Taran had been discussing helping at the Halloween fair (organization for which had already commenced despite it being at the end of next month). “Me? You’re looking at me? What?”
My friend chuckled, shooting Taran a conspiratorial look.
Taran still wore the shell-shocked expression of someone who’d recently lost a loved one. I knew it well. Two weeks ago, I’d found her walking along the harbor by herself, and I’d joined her. I’d told her about my parents and that I was here for her.
The truth was, I hadn’t needed to say anything else. She’d gravitated toward me ever since because I think I was the human equivalent of noise-reduction headphones. My empathy cut off the overstimulation of everyone else trying too hard to be there for her. They didn’t mean it. They were simply being kind. But their kindness was suffocating her.
There was no pressure from me to talk.
No awkward weirdness.
I chatted with Taran like normal, knowing that if she wanted to talk about her mom, she knew she could.
Cammie had followed my lead.
Thus, our biweekly coffee dates in Pages & Perks.
Pushing through Taran’s grief now was an amused smile.
It soothed me to see it.
“What are you talking about?” I grinned, naively unaware.
Cammie leaned in. She’d dyed her blond hair violet last week, and the light purple strands fell across her shoulders as she moved close enough to whisper, “Sex with McRae.”
I gave a small bark of surprised laughter. “What?”
Taran covered a husky laugh with her hand. “She’s incorrigible. Sorry. I told her not to ask.”
The laugh had brought Cammie’s head swinging around, her eyes wide on Taran.