Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
I didn’t know what to say.
I hadn’t seen this coming, but I also wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t so oblivious that I couldn’t feel it, the invisible string coiling between us, pulling tighter with every shared secret, every almost, and every moment we pretended we weren’t already each other’s, knotting us into something neither of us fully understood but both of us needed.
“You don’t have to be afraid of this,” he promised, his voice low, like a vow meant only for me. “I don’t want anything but to be yours. Only yours.”
I wasn’t afraid of him.
I was afraid of what we’d risk losing if I let myself fall completely, the way I already wanted to. But as he stood there, his eyes burning into mine like I was the only thing in the universe worth seeing, every argument I’d built crumbled at my feet. I wanted every twisted, possessive, beautiful part of him. I already loved him, ruthless edges and all. I always had.
And he was right.
We couldn’t keep spinning in this endless orbit. Stalling, colliding, ripping each other apart just to put each other back together again. I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming like a war drum in my ears. In that moment, I realized that if I stepped forward, there would be no turning back, and a part of me already knew I wouldn’t survive stepping away.
“Why forty-eight hours?” I latched onto it like a lifeline. Something to hold onto while everything else felt like it was shifting beneath my feet.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
“I want to do this right. You overthink everything, and there are things I need to handle first. Things that'll silence the doubts you already have, and the ones I know you’ll invent before this becomes official.”
“I’m not that bad,” I said, half-defensive, half-teasing, though my voice betrayed how hard my heart was pounding.
He gave me a look, knowing and laced with something unreadable. The ‘things’ he needed to handle sounded ominous, but I didn’t ask him to explain. I knew it was better that I didn’t have all the details.
“I don’t completely understand… but I trust you.”
A slow, crooked smile curved across his mouth. “That’s all I need.”
He traced the pad of his thumb along my jaw. “Does this mean you’re finally done denying this? Or do I need to be clearer?”
“Are you giving me a choice?”
His answer came soft but unflinching. “You already made it.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I swallowed hard. My hand came up, hesitant, cupping his face.
“We can’t…” I whispered, my voice breaking on the edges.
If I let myself go there now, there’d be no pulling back. I was already past the point of redemption as someone’s girlfriend, but crossing that final line? It wouldn’t be a one-time thing. It would never stop. It would consume us both, and I wasn’t naïve enough to pretend otherwise.
“I know, Sass. I know,” he said, his voice low and rough, threaded with a restraint that nearly undid me.
“I can’t fuck you on the counter yet. Can’t put you on your knees in the middle of this kitchen. Can’t bend you over the couch and make you forget every excuse you’ve ever given yourself for why this shouldn’t happen.” A dark laugh curled at the edge of his words. “This stopped being just friends a long time ago, Sass. For me, it’s all been foreplay. And I can play a little longer.”
His breath brushed my lips, warm and deliberate. The self-control in his voice, so unlike him, was almost more dangerous than the words themselves.
“Ryder—” I breathed, torn between panic and the raw, aching desire for him spiraling through me.
He leaned in, his nose brushing mine, mouth so close I could almost feel his lips. Then, just as suddenly, he drew back, brow furrowed as he looked around the house.
“What is that smell?”
I blinked, dazed. What? I took a breath and smelled it too. My eyes widened. “Crap.”
I spun around; my gaze locked onto the toaster. Smoke curled up like an omen from hell. “Damnit.” I hit the cancel button and yanked the lever back harder than necessary. Two burnt-to-hell toaster strudels launched out like they were mocking me. I stared down at their charred edges, blackened beyond saving, and noticed the dial turned all the way to the max. Who the hell was using that setting?
“They’re burnt, Rye.”
I heard him as he came closer. “Sanj,” his voice was careful, like he wasn’t sure which direction to take. “Are you… crying?” He was attempting not to laugh. I could tell.
“No.”
“You’re trying not to.”
My eyes stung. Go figure, it was this stupid, blackened, sugary mess that cracked me entirely. “Only because you pointed it out.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind. “I think you need this,” he murmured. “Nice outfit, by the way.”