Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Choose who chooses you.” I reach down and run the tips of my fingers over it. It’s so delicate it’s not felt anymore. “I forget about it most days.” I rest my arm over my forehead. “Which is strange to think about because it used to always be on my mind when I got it.”
“Why did you choose that quote?” It’s a simple question that doesn’t seem to have such an easy answer. His hand is warm, the heat radiating through my body under the spinning ceiling fan. He slides up next to me, resting his head on the other pillow. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”
I turn to look at him. “I’ve asked you to share your heart and inner thoughts, and you’re going to let me off the hook like that?”
Although I’m teasing, he’s not when he replies, “Tattoos come with a story. I’ll wait until you’re ready to share yours.”
The trust we’ve built came quicker than with most people, but so did my feelings for him. I don’t want to hide, especially when he’s given me a reason not to hide. I say, “My dad left when I was seven. Kissed my mom goodbye, and me on the head as I ate breakfast and then walked right out the door like he was going to work.” My throat tightens. “I was eating Lucky Charms. I haven’t thought about that in years.” I quickly dip my head sideways into the pillow. “Not so lucky, huh?”
Baylor reaches over and caresses my cheek, running his thumb over my temple as his fingers weave into my hair. “I’m not going to spin this to find some bright side to that situation. That was a shitty thing to do to you and your mom.”
Even though it’s not an event in my life that I focus on, Christine was always there to comfort me over the years. My mom was too, but it was just different. With her, I needed to be cognizant of her pain, and I didn’t always have the strength to consume both of our pain. A bucket only holds so much before it tips over.
I’d tip over some days, and my best friend helped right me. So hearing Baylor just lay it out so plainly—not trying to explain how it wasn’t my fault and not making up excuses for him to make me feel better—takes off some of that weight of the burden I’m forced to carry.
It is exactly what it looks like on the surface for all the world to see and judge, including me.
My dad chose to leave after raising me for seven years, after vowing to my mother to protect me, after knowing me for seven crucial years of my life. It was hard to realize I needed protecting from him.
He leans over and kisses my forehead. When he falls back to his pillow, he says, “Choose who chooses you.”
I nod, not sure anything more needs to be said, and I don’t want to spend our last few hours dwelling on the past when I can be here with him instead. I lean forward and kiss him. Just like earlier, it’s slow. We take our time to appreciate the feel of each other’s lips, the way our tongues find their way together, and our hands hold the other like we fell in love a long time before now.
Is that possible?
Could our souls have known all along?
He hasn’t found love, though he’s traveled all over. I didn't find it when I stayed here.
I’ve never been overly romantic, but deep in my heart, I was still hoping to find my soulmate one day. Under the tender embrace of this man, I start to wonder if it’s been him all along.
When he dips to kiss my neck, I whisper, “Make love to me, Baylor.”
He lifts his head so our gazes connect, revealing the appreciation he has for me. A gentle smile lifts his cheeks, and he ducks to my ear and kisses me. “I’ll make love to you, baby.”
His hand works its way down my body and slips between my legs. It never takes long with him, but the magic strikes faster this time. When he fills my body with the weight of him on top of me, I’m free to feel everything he’s giving. But one of my favorite things is pleasing him. To bring him to his knees is such an aphrodisiac.
We roll over so I can take charge, riding him with his eyes fixed on my body, making me feel sexier than I ever have. And when he starts to lose his grip of control, his hold on me tightens, and his eyes start to roll back in his head. I can tell the moment his release nears—his eyes clench closed, his body tenses, and his movements become erratic under me.