Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I chuckled and felt my nipples harden.
Slowly, taking way more time than was needed, he wrapped the towel back around me, looking his fill first. “I’ll get your clothes out of there. Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t think to do it yesterday. But why are you even over here? Not only am I not sure about your roof caving in, but you have broken electrical wires hangin’ in here. You could be electrocuted.”
Some of that sense of defeat started to creep back in. He wasn’t helping me keep my thoughts positive.
My house was a literal disaster, and I had to live like this for weeks if not months.
“Why didn’t you shower at my place?” he demanded.
My shoulders sagged. “I…had a rough day. I just needed to be alone for a little bit to get myself together before I came over.”
“Together?” Wes’ lifted me straight up before I knew what was happening with his forearm beneath my ass. He pinned me against the wall of the hallway and pressed his body against mine, bringing us nose to nose, my feet hovering a foot above the ground. I could feel his hard dick through his jeans, and he had it pressing right against my pussy. I whimpered, then rolled my hips. “What does that mean?”
I sighed. “It means I didn’t want to bother you or Remy with my crankiness or my bad day.”
He huffed out a laugh. “You? Cranky? I think I’m the one who’s always cranky. Honey, you don’t have to get yourself together for me. You don’t have to hide your bad day. Not for Remy, either. She’s four. I know you’ve seen her fuss and have a tantrum. And me, well, I guess I have a grown-up version all the time.”
My eyes smarted. Ack. I didn’t want to cry, even though what he said was funny. And true.
I tried to kiss him, to divert the rush of emotion, but he remained still, not kissing me back.
I drew back, perplexed.
“I’ll fuck your brains out, if that’s what you need, Joy, but maybe what you really need is a good cry. If that’s true, I’d rather hold you and listen.”
A sob rocketed up my throat. I didn’t want to cry. Even standing in the middle of the disaster that was my house, the perfect place to let my feelings drown me.
“Put me down,” I choked.
Wes’ brows were down low. He eased me back to my feet but didn’t let me go. I gave a playful shove at his chest to move him–I sure as hell didn’t want to stand here feeling so exposed while he stared me down–but he didn’t budge.
God, I felt more exposed emotionally than when the towel dropped a minute ago and left me bare.
“Wes,” I breathed.
“It seems to me,” he said slowly, studying me, “that you’re the type of person who is very good at lifting others. You’re cheerful and kind. You’re the sunshine in the middle of a storm.”
I blinked hard, but the tears were starting to fall.
“I love that about you,” he admitted.
He loved that about me.
“But it’s also okay for you to not be okay.”
I leaned my forehead against his broad, muscled chest, starting to cry for real now. His arms banded around me.
“You don’t always have to make lemonade out of lemons. Sometimes, things just suck. Or break, like your damned roof. We can hunker down in the covers together with our arms around each other and just be with each other through the pain. As long as it’s in my bed, not yours.”
Oh my God.
I lost it completely.
I sobbed into Wes’ chest, not even sure where all the emotion was coming from. Probably from half a lifetime of being cheery to my mom’s depression, I supposed.
What would happen if Mom saw me cry? Would she sink even further into one of her funks? I always had to show her what it looked like to be happy.
Wes didn’t move, only stroking his big hand up and down my back. He was my rock, holding me as I allowed it all to come out.
Then, because it felt so out of control to cry and yet also so good, I started to giggle through my tears.
Wes pulled my face away from his now dampened shirt and gazed down with concern. “Are you laughing?”
“Yes. No. I think so,” I laugh-cried. “The crying feels good, so I’m laughing.” I laughed harder, tears streaming down my cheeks.
A puff of laughter came out of his lips.
“You laughed!” I accused, pointing my finger at his face. His smile made me laugh so hard my stomach cramped. I doubled over, slapping his chest.
He chuckled.
I laughed harder.
Then, suddenly, we were on the floor of my hallway, with me cradled on Wes’ lap, leaning into one of his strong arms. I wiped my tears, alternating between laughing and crying.