Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
But I do.
I step out, the night air thick and chilled with the forecast of more snow. I walk carefully on the slick pavement. The weight of everything presses harder with each step toward her door. The questions. The past. The surgery that might fix me or ruin me completely.
And then there’s Angie. The only thing in my life that feels solid, real.
I raise my fist to knock—hesitate.
Then, before I can second-guess myself, I let my knuckles meet the wood.
Once. Twice.
Soft enough not to startle her. Loud enough that she’ll hear me.
And now, I wait.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Angie
Tillie wakes me with a sharp yap.
My eyes pop open.
“What is it, baby girl?” I ask.
Then I hear it. A soft knocking.
My nerves go on red alert. It’s the middle of the night, and Jason…
Is he back?
I check the time. It hasn’t been that long since he left.
Surely he can’t already be back.
Or could he?
Tillie shifts beside me, ears pricked, her little body tense. The knocking comes again—soft, hesitant, but firm enough to put my senses on alert.
I push the covers back, my breath tight in my chest. He left after that phone call.
What if it’s not him?
My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last. A stranger? A threat?
Or something more terrifying—Jason, standing on the other side of the door, lost in a way I don’t know how to fix.
I swallow hard, slip out of bed, pull a robe over my shoulders, and walk out of the bedroom. Tillie follows. I flick on a brighter lamp in the living room.
Another knock. This time, softer. Almost reluctant.
I look through the peephole.
Jason.
Relief sweeps through me.
Not a thief, murderer, or rapist.
Simply Jason.
He stands on my stoop, drenched in moonlight and something heavier—something raw, unspoken.
This isn’t the Jason who owned me hours ago, who pressed me onto the table with a command and a growl, who unraveled me with ruthless precision.
“Jason?” My voice barely carries over the silence.
Nothing.
Then—his voice, low, rough.
“Angie…please. Open the door.”
Something inside me clenches. I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever weight he’s about to drop onto me.
But I know one thing.
I’m going to open the door.
“Get back, girl,” I say to Tillie as I unlock the deadbolt and open the door.
Jason says nothing as he walks in, ignoring Tillie’s yaps.
I scoop up my dog, take her to the back door, and let her out. She does her business quickly, and when she scratches at the metal door, I let her back in.
Jason still stands in the living room. I go to him.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m sorry I left. It could have waited until morning.”
I press my fingers against his soft lips. “It’s okay. Let’s just get back to bed. I have school tomorrow, and you have w—” I clap my hand over my mouth.
God, I feel awful.
Jason doesn’t have work. He was put on leave.
How much can one man take?
“It’s okay,” he says. “The fact that my life is a total wreck isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure what to say. I want to be there for him. We love each other, so his issues are my issues.
But I don’t think that’s what he needs to hear right now.
He needs silence. He needs peace.
So I say nothing. Instead, I grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to my bedroom. He trails behind me like a forlorn shadow. A part of me wants to reach out, to comfort him, but another part of me knows this is what he needs right now. Quiet. Simple quiet.
We step into my room, and I flick on a small lamp by the bedside, casting a dim glow across the room.
I slide my robe over my shoulders, letting it fall in a heap at my feet. Then I help him undress. When we’re both naked, I pull back the covers.
He slides in silently. I turn off the lamp, slip in next to him, and turn my back to him.
His cock is hard against my back, and I wiggle against him in invitation.
He glides into me with one swift thrust.
No condom, but I don’t care. He needs this. He needs me.
I sigh at the blissful completion that only he gives me.
This whole night has been about him and his needs, and I’m okay with that.
He’s gentle this time. Just smooth thrusts in and out that are more about connection than passion. He finds my hands under the covers, our fingers entwining as our bodies move together in silent understanding.
His breath is warm on the back of my neck, his heart a steady drum against my shoulders. There’s something so intimate about this moment. We are not lovers lost in passion but two souls seeking solace.
As he moves, I feel the tension seeping from him, his body gradually relaxing against mine. His grip on my hand loosens but he doesn’t let go. The rhythm of our bodies slows until we’re barely moving, just breathing in time with each other.