Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I could stay like this forever. Watching him in this moment of pleasure. Knowing it was me who was giving it to him. My body. He wanted me. That much I could be sure of. But my heart required more. However, right now, I was taking what he was willing to let me have. I had time. We had time. He was here with me now. I had to believe that meant the past month had a reason. One that he would explain. One that made sense. Although I already knew I’d forgive him for anything.
His gaze reminded me of a thundercloud just before the storm. There was so much in that one look that I couldn’t decipher all of it. But something about it made me feel cherished. Worshipped even.
When he eased out, then back inside me, all other thoughts were gone. Just this. Us. My soul felt whole again.
Fourteen
Noa
The emptiness was so heavy that it was hard to breathe. I refused to open my eyes because when I did, I’d be faced with what I already knew. What I should have been prepared for but had been so wrapped up in the power of Ransom Carver that I wasn’t thinking straight. He’d not explained anything. Given me no reason for his silence.
I sucked in air, and my lungs burned, but it was nothing compared to the searing in my heart.
He was gone. Without a word.
I’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, wrapped in his arms. My nose buried in his neck, inhaling his scent. Lavishing in the happiness that only he brought me. Not expecting to wake up cold and alone. Desperate for a sign of hope, I listened for any sound that might tell me he was still here, although I knew, deep down, he wasn’t.
There had been a darkness in his eyes last night. I wanted to believe it was guilt for having ghosted me, but I knew it was something else. Something he wouldn’t share with me. The only talking he did last night was dirty. He praised me, my body, how I made him feel. But he didn’t say anything more. I had foolishly fallen asleep, thinking he’d be here when I woke up. Ready to talk.
Slowly opening my eyes, I stared at the ceiling. My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. Not again. He’d caused too many tears this past month. I’d let myself think the suffering was over last night. That he was back.
Turning over, I started to reach for my phone, thinking perhaps there was a text from him. A goodbye or explanation. But I stilled as my eyes met the dark sapphire jewel that glistened as the morning sun hit it.
What the hell was that?
Sitting up, I swung my legs off the bed and moved closer to stare down at the necklace. It was nestled in navy velvet and secured with satin. I gripped my hands tightly to my chest, backing away from it, as if it were a snake ready to strike. But perhaps a snake bite might have been less painful.
I swallowed over the familiar lump that had taken up residence in my throat.
A diamond and sapphire necklace.
I pressed a fist against my heart. I sank back down on the edge of the bed. No goodbye. No explanation. Just a gift. A ridiculously expensive one.
I winced. Although it didn’t feel like a gift. He hadn’t given it to me wrapped, saying, Merry Christmas. He’d left it beside my bed without a note. It felt like … like a payment. For what? Sex? Was that what we had become? I spread my legs, and he left me expensive jewelry to ease his conscience?
I blew out a breath and gave in to the tears. They were inevitable. Giving in now and letting them go would be easier than trying to refuse the emotion. At least I wasn’t standing and wouldn’t end up on the floor this time. That had been rock bottom for me. I wasn’t allowing myself to go back there again.
Yet, as I assured myself of that, sobs shook my shoulders. I wanted to think he’d be back today or that he’d call me, but I already knew the truth. If he’d wanted to return to what we had been, he’d have explained his absence. He’d have stayed. Left me a letter even.
Was I expected to wait around until he had time to show up again? Or was my necklace a parting gift?
I glared hatefully at the offending item. There was no telling the price tag on it. The case it was in said Harry Winston. Of course it was. I’d never even bought myself something from there. The damn thing probably needed its own insurance policy. I’d mail the thing to him if it didn’t cost so much. I would just shove it at him the next time he showed up … if there was a next time. I could use it to slap his face instead of my hand.