Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
She looks past him at me for a moment, contemplating her options. Then snarls and spits at his feet, whirls around, and runs off.
Rhett turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “Nice slap. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
I laugh. “Neither did I.”
We bolt out the door and into the cool evening. The wind blows sharp across our faces as we run, Rhett leading the way. Every muscle in my body is tense. Every step I take is precise. I follow him without hesitation. I don’t know what his plan is, but I trust him.
After a long run through the trees, we reach the wall that fences in the property. Rhett lifts me up and over, then scales it easily himself. His truck is parked a few feet away. He opens the door for me and helps me inside, then rounds the front and climbs in. The engine rattles to a start, and he pulls away. I glance back as the estate vanishes into the darkness. A sight I never thought I’d see.
“Where to?” I ask, my heart still racing, my body filled with adrenaline.
“To our future.” He smiles. “And the rest of our lives.”
I smile as tears slip down my cheeks and the prison that was my existence vanishes behind us. And I don’t look back. Not once.
I’m free.
EPILOGUE
RHETT
One year later…
Clang, clang, clang. Hammer against nail. Sweat drips down my face, and the sun burns hot against my bare back. I’ve been working all day, and my body is on fire, but nothing compares to the heat that rips through me when I see her.
Cassandra, my wife.
My angel steps barefoot out of the little white farmhouse we’ve been fixing up together, here in the gorgeous hills of Virginia. Her belly is nice and round with our baby, and her tits are stretching the fabric of her shirt to its limit. She’s gained at least a cup size over the last eight months.
She’s holding a glass of lemonade as she walks toward me and smiles in a way that lights me up inside. Every time she looks at me or lets out a cute little giggle, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.
I toss my hammer aside and go over to her and sweep her into my arms. I may be sweaty, but I know she loves it. She loves it when I’m a raw man for her–in more ways than one.
The thing that really gets me is the fact that she chose me.
Not for my wealth or a big estate filled with gadgets and gold.
But for me.
She chose a man who would tear the world apart to keep her safe. She loves me for me, and I love her for her. And nothing will ever change that.
“You better take a break or you’ll get heat stroke,” she scolds me with a smile, handing me the lemonade. I reach for it but don’t take it. I take her.
I lift her effortlessly into my arms and hold her against my chest, inhaling her scent. Somehow, I think she smells even more attractive the deeper into her pregnancy that she gets. She giggles, kicking her feet, and holds the glass so as not to spill it. Her breasts are soft against me, and her belly fills me with joy of the life we’ll soon welcome into the world.
I carry her into the shade beneath the porch and lie her down on the cushion of the porch swing. Its chain snapped yesterday, and I haven’t been able to fix it yet on account of working on the new tennis court I’m building for us by hand.
“You didn’t even drink the lemonade,” she says, giving me a fake-pouty face. I smile and lean in for a kiss.
“You taste sweeter.”
She giggles against my kiss and smacks me on the shoulder. “Rhett! Try it! I made it by hand just for you! It has mint in it!”
“Okay, okay,” I chuckle, pretending to groan as I lift the glass to my lips. I take a deep gulp and smile. “You’ve done it again, baby. It’s delicious.”
“Sweeter than me?” she teases.
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
I lean in and kiss her hungrily, slipping my hand up her shirt to cup her healthy breast. It won’t be long now before she’s nursing our first child, and seeing her like this–a mom-to-be–has me hornier than ever. I just cannot keep myself off her. And she loves it.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I broke down that door to rescue her. One year since I dropped Arthur, since she slapped Clarisse, and we ran off through the woods like fugitives. One year since she threw away that awful ring and let me place mine on her finger. It may not be as big or as expensive, but it’s tasteful, and filled with love.