Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“What?” He smirks.
“Why don’t you want me?” I blurt before I can think better of it. Oh, well, we’re all about communication, right? I want to know what’s holding him back.
Copeland’s mouth falls open. “You think I don’t want you?”
“You kiss me like you do. You hold me like I’m precious, but that’s all you’ve given me.”
He sits next to me on the couch and pulls my legs onto his lap, making sure to keep them covered with the blanket. He runs his calloused hands over my bare calf. “Wanting you isn’t the problem, Ellison.”
“Then what is?”
“Six weeks ago today, you told me to leave. I’d just made love to you; my heart felt complete for the first time in years. You screamed and told me to go, and that you were trying not to love me.” He pauses, his hand gently tracing my calf beneath the blanket, and I give him time to collect his thoughts.
Meanwhile, I struggle to stay still, sitting in this spot. All I want to do is curl up in his lap and tell him how much I love him, but I can hear it in his tone of voice and see it in his expression that he needs to say more, and I’m going to let him.
“I told you I was going to fight for you. Fight for us. Not for the sex, Ellison, for the love. I’m fighting for my future, the future I don’t want unless you’re in it. The one where you change your last name and call me your husband. The future that has me laying my head to rest every night beside yours and waking up the same way. The life that we build together. I’m holding back because the last time you told me you didn’t want to love me, and baby, that’s all I want you to do. I promised myself I’d go slow. That I’d show you that this is more than just sex; it’s everything. You are everything,” he says. His brown eyes, so full of love and devotion, stare me down as they will me to understand where he’s coming from.
I do understand.
I sit up straighter, and my hands find his beneath the blanket. I lace our fingers together and stare into those chocolate-brown eyes I love so much. I part my lips to speak, but no words come out. I don’t know what to say. This incredible man, he’s all I’ve ever wanted. My mind swims trying to find the words, but they won’t come. There are only three that I can think of, and they’re the exact three words that have been fighting to break free for weeks.
Letting go of his hands, I pull the cover back and move to straddle his lap. A chill races over me as the air conditioning hits my skin, and Copeland notices, because the man misses nothing when it comes to me. Reaching for the blanket, he wraps it around me, making sure I’m warm before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.
“Better?”
I nod. One of my hands slides around the back of his neck, while the other rests against his cheek. He holds my gaze as if he can sense whatever I’m about to say is going to change both of our lives, and well, I hope it does.
His chest rises and falls at a steady pace, his gaze doesn’t waver, and his hold on me is secure, just like the man. “You’re steady,” I say, my voice strong. “You were always a solid presence in my life, and when you left, I was drowning.” The light in his eyes dims, and I don’t want that, so I rush to keep going. “All my life, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I used to think I was a little off my rocker, or maybe a lot”—I grin—“because no matter how hard I tried, Cope, I couldn’t let you go. I wondered so many times if it was just the thought of you that I loved so much, but that wasn’t it. It was you. The man, the lover, the protector, my best friend,” I say, my voice betraying me with a crack of emotion.
“Copeland James, you are the love of my life. I love you so damn much. I want the life we planned all those years ago. I want everything you described. I know I said that I was trying not to love you, but I failed. I’ve never stopped loving you, Copeland.”
“Ells,” he rasps as his lips connect with mine.
He kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe. It’s not rushed, but it is full of meaning. I nip at his lip, and he opens for me, offering me more, and I take it. My tongue slides against his in an erotic dance. The air around us is charged, lit from desire, want, and need.