Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Would that make me your kryptonite?” I don’t know where the question comes from, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. What is it about this man that obliterates my filter?
“Yeah.” He drags his gaze up from his hand on my knee, over the length of my body, until we’re eye to eye. Even with the blanket obscuring most of me from his view, his stare almost feels like a caress against my heated skin. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. “I think you just might be.”
Silence falls around us, but it’s not weird or uncomfortable. It’s the welcoming kind of quiet. As if drawn by a magnet, Atlas leans forward, until he’s crowding my space, and we’re breathing the same air.
My entire body freezes, but Atlas mistakes my sudden stiffness as fear and pulls back, standing from the bed.
But I wasn’t scared, not of him; no, I was frozen in anticipation because for a moment, for one stupid and glorious moment, I thought Atlas might kiss me.
And now, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he didn’t. Or maybe he wasn’t ever going to. Maybe I misread the situation altogether.
God, why can’t I just be normal?
“I have to head to work now,” he says, freeing me from my internal pity party. “Ellis does, too, so you’ll have the house to yourself.”
“Oh.” All of the good feelings swimming around inside of me vanish, my old friend anxiety swiftly taking their place. “Okay.”
I knew he had work today, but now that it’s actually time for him to leave, I’m on edge. The thought of being alone is terrifying. At least at the motel, there were other patrons and the employees. Here, though, I’m completely alone…the only person for miles.
“I’m only working a half day today, so I won’t be gone long. The door will be locked and the cameras on. You’re perfectly safe, Pip.”
“Okay,” I say again when nothing better comes to mind. I’ve spent the last few years with only my diary to keep me company. What’s one more? At least here, I’m safe. Here, I don’t have to worry about when I’ll eat next or whether or not I’ll end the day with broken ribs or a black eye.
“If you need anything—” Atlas pauses abruptly, spearing his fingers through his slightly-too-long hair. “Shit. You don’t have a phone, and you definitely need one,” he rambles, pacing the length of the bed. “We’re going to fix that today.”
The thought of him spending that kind of money on me has my belly flipping. I can’t let him do that is the only thought in my brain as I kick off the covers and spring out of the bed, positioning myself directly in his path.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, seemingly dumbstruck by the sight of me. My cheeks heat under his scrutiny, but at least he’s moved on from the idea of buying me a phone.
“I am.” I dig my toes into the carpet as my entire body flushes. His shirt is the only thing I’m wearing, and even worse, I didn’t ask first—like a heathen, I just helped myself. “I-I hope that’s okay.”
Atlas drops his eyes to my mouth, pausing there before continuing his slow perusal. “More than okay.” He licks his lips, and I swear I feel it between my legs. What is wrong with me?
“Are you sure?” I don’t know why I’m pushing the issue. He said it was fine, but for some reason, I can’t let it go.
“Promise.” He sways forward, tugging at the sleeve of the shirt. “It looks way better on you than it ever did on me.”
My lips part on a shaky exhale. My legs tremble and my heart races as my belly flips like I’m caught in a freaking spin-cycle, ‘round and ‘round, tumbling in circles as I try not to make a fool of myself in front of this man.
“Fuck, Nora.” Atlas sounds pained. “You can’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know.
He pinches his eyes closed and balls his hands into fists, flexing his fingers until his knuckles flash white.
I know I shouldn’t, but I take a step closer, pressing my palm to his chest.
His eyes fly open at the contact, his breathing choppy, like each inhale hurts. “Nora,” he croaks as he brings his hand up to cup my cheek. The rough slide of his palm against my jaw nearly sends me to my knees. “God, you’re so—”
I lean into him, desperately waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead and steps back, putting a respectable distance between us.
“Have a good day, Pip. And if you need me for any reason, you can use the echo in the kitchen to drop in on my phone. I left instructions on how to use it on the fridge.”