Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
My body drops like a stone before the safety harness catches, a brutal jerk that knocks the air from my lungs.
I’m dangling now, suspended by the harness, my feet swinging in empty air as I claw desperately for any grip.
The safety cable bites into my hands as I finally grasp it with the strength of pure terror. Far below, the desert floor seems to rush up to meet me and recede simultaneously, a dizzying optical illusion that makes my stomach heave.
Terror floods my system, a white-hot surge of adrenaline that makes my vision go dark at the edges. Every cell in my body is electrified with fear, my consciousness narrowing to a single, desperate plea.
Mads! MADS!
But as the initial shock passes, as I realize the harness has done its job and I’m still very much alive, I’m hit with crushing disappointment. Because I’m still me. Still just Anna, shaking and dangling from a safety harness four hundred feet above the desert floor.
Mads didn’t come.
“I’ve got you,” Mike’s calm voice breaks through my panic. He’s moved back to help, one strong hand gripping my harness, steadying me. “Just get your feet back on the rungs. That’s it. You’re doing great.”
With his help, I’m pulled up and manage to regain my footing, trembling but secure once more on the Stairway. Domhnall has closed the distance between us as well, his face pale.
His arms immediately close around me.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice tight. His whole body is shaking in fear for me.
I cling to his solid shape. “I’m sorry,” I whisper into his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”
And I am—sorry for scaring him, sorry for putting myself in danger.
But most of all, I’m sorry that none of it worked.
THIRTY
DOMHNALL
My once afraid-of-intimacy fiancé is now all but sex-starved. After the scare on the Stairway that day last week, unless she’s off in meditation, she’s quite literally throwing herself at me all day long. She crawls my body every moment we’re awake. Monday, when I was on a late-afternoon business call, she climbed beneath the desk and gave me a blowjob that nearly had my eyes crossing while I was trying to sort out the details of a contract with Beijing. I ended the call early and pounded her there on the floor for her naughtiness.
Don’t get me wrong. I can’t imagine a better way to spend a pre-honeymoon.
Except for the feeling I can’t shake that something’s going on with her. Something she’s not opening up about.
I thought we were done with secrets, so I’ve been giving her time to open up to me about it. But when I ask what’s wrong, she just blinks her eyes like she has no idea what I’m talking about and quickly squeaks out, “Nothing!”
Then, before I know it, she’s distracting me with sex again.
Like now, for instance.
I literally cannot remember what the hell we were just talking about when she sets down her napkin after our in-room dinner and stares me in the eye.
“What do you think about fucking me while I’m asleep?”
I choke on the sip of wine I’ve just taken, coughing. She can’t mean what I think she means.
I wipe my mouth with my own cloth napkin. “What do you mean?”
“Somnophilia,” she says. Fuck. That was what I thought she meant. “I want to try it. I want you to take me while I’m unconscious.”
I swallow, cough again, then take another quick swig of wine. “What’s the point of that? If you’re really asleep, you wouldn’t even know it was happening.”
She tilts her head down, and I swear, fucking flutters her lashes at me, then, to really dig the dagger in, she bites her bottom lip. “But it’s sexy and…” She reaches for her own wine glass, cheeks suddenly getting pink as her eyes dart away. “I—I used to think it was really sexy when I’d wake up sore and know—”
Her eyes quickly come back to mine before dancing away again.
Know that I’d had sex with Mads while she hadn’t been present.
I swallow.
I know she’s been missing Mads’s presence. Would this make her… feel closer? I know integrating has felt strange for her.
“Have you ever fantasized about it?” she asks, eyeing me over her glass.
I frown, brows furrowing as I think. “I don’t think so.”
She leans forward and traces her fingers over my knuckles. “Well, picture it. Me lying there. I’m giving you my consent now. I’m there, but you’re also alone. And you can do absolutely anything you want to my warm, wet body.”
My cock starts to harden underneath the table. “I can already do anything I want.”
She smiles darkly and slides her hand away from mine, back to settle in her chair, eyebrow arched. “Can you? What if I only give you consent to fuck me when I’m asleep?”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely baffled.
“Because it’s kinky.” But then she looks down, looking embarrassed again, my familiar Anna. “Only if you want to, of course. It’s just… sometimes I want to crawl down your body and start sucking your cock while you’re sleeping. A-and then… I fantasize about you doing the same thing to me. I—I want you to.”