Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
She knows what she wants.
I’ve known for years that I don’t have a clue. I’ve been waiting to see what my next move would be and what life could look like, but all I could see was the next surgery date and the healing that came after. It has been an endless cycle. I haven’t lost hope, but it’s hard to dream when your body chains you to the ground.
“I like you,” Dulcie goes on. “I’m attracted to you. You’re intoxicating, and your soul stirs mine. You’re important to me. I know that already.”
She moves so she can peer down at me. Her pupils are almost a normal size now, surrounded by a ring of fiery sparks that flare in the dark depths. She’s guileless, and it’s easy to see how sincerely she feels everything she’s saying.
She brushes her hand over my brow, inhaling deeply, then says, “Now that I’ve drunk champagne right out of your mouth, I’m finished. Wrecked. Gone. All the other shit aside, can’t we just be two people who found an unexpected connection and a mad desire and then rock it?”
“We can’t just set the other stuff aside,” I insist, despite how badly I want to agree with her.
“Fair enough. But I still want you, all the other stuff included. I’ll fight for you. You, me… us… it’s worth it. I’d ask you to say the word, but you just did. When you kissed me just now.”
“I want to be the kind of man who does the right thing,” I say to her.
“Then listen to me. Trust me. Have faith in me,” she says as I look up at her. There’s no hiding down here, and the way she implores me hits harder. “Let’s heal my family’s wounds, and let me help you heal yours. Don’t take your light out of my life just when it’s starting to shine so bright.”
“That sounds like a children’s song,” I comment.
“Maybe. But it’s also my song.” She starts humming some nonsense song. At the same time, her hand travels down my face and brushes over my lips. “I know this is scary, and it’s a bunch of nonsense, but that’s where all good stories start. With one word. One line. One paragraph.”
“They start with an idea. Inspiration. Madness that you have to write down so it’s not eating you up on the inside,” I say.
“I couldn’t have said it better. That’s exactly what I was thinking earlier before I started reading from my journal.”
“Things could be less complicated.” But I know they won’t be. She’s right. I’m fighting against something I already know I want.
“They could be if we weren’t attracted to each other, but we are. You can’t always rewrite your story. You can’t rewire yourself to want something different. And by yourself, I mean myself. I can’t rewire it. I thought I was a late bloomer, but all this time, I was waiting for you.”
“That’s horribly poetic.”
“Life is poetry,” she says.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” It’s a rhetorical question, but she responds anyway.
With a grin, she says, “I think we might be.”
“Why do you sound so happy about that?”
Her smile is so soft and sweet, but filled with steel at the same time. This isn’t a woman who’s lost. She knows what she wants. It’s both terrifying and terrifyingly attractive. “Because being fucked with you is the most amazing thing I can think of.”
“I’m sure I could brainstorm something more exciting,” I say dryly.
“I’m sitting here in a champagne-soaked dress. Let’s brainstorm ideas about how to deal with that.”
“Take it off, get my clothes, find a laundromat and a hotel with a shower, take a break for the day, start out again tomorrow, and—”
She leans over and brushes a kiss across my forehead. My heart stops dead in its tracks, and my brain short-circuits. My dick hasn’t deflated since I got on this bus, but in this position, it’s entirely obvious that it’s down my leg and making a big show of it.
“It’s okay, Luca,” she breathes, my name sounding so pretty on her tongue. I’ve never really liked it, but I like the way she says it. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. You can trust me.”
“We barely know each other. Trust is a big word.”
“You can trust someone before you exchange a word with them. It’s called soul trust.”
“That’s more poetry. Not reality,” I say.
I drag in the oxygen that my burning lungs are screaming for. She could be lying to me now. This whole thing could be one big game of seduction to take me down and make me pay. That’s a terrible thought. A paranoid one. I know that’s not it at all. As soon as that dark shit pops into my head, I dismiss it. I know what happened at the start of this, but that’s not what’s happening now.