Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
As I study the paintings, the realization settles in. They’re a merging of the two people we loved and lost.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask, bringing my attention back to him.
His gaze drops to the floor. “She was submissive…like you.” Dormant grief laces his voice, softening each syllable. “Made for me in every way.”
I recall Mr. Bordeaux and his relationship with Loren, or Pax and the woman he calls slave.
“What do you mean by submissive?” I lean on the arm of the couch. “I’m not like that.”
“It’s an umbrella term for many dynamics. Talitha gave me control of her life and body because she needed the freedom it gave her.”
“How is that freedom?”
“Giving me the reins took the pressure off her. She thrived. Hell, we both did.”
“I understand that’s what worked for you and her, but I want…something different.”
I want Sebastian.
As if we’re tuned to the same wavelength, I swear he hears the unspoken words.
“You might not want or need it in the same way she did, but I see it in you. You have the same type of submissive spirit as my Talitha.”
He pauses, staring into the flames, a faint smile curving his mouth. He seems lost to the memory while the firelight dances across his features.
“She was smart and gifted, with the most breathtaking voice I’ve ever heard. She dreamed of performing at La Scala in Italy someday. She would’ve made it there, too, if not for…”
With a heavy breath, he lowers his face into his hands, fingers raking through his drying hair. He stays like that for a long moment, inhaling and exhaling, words failing him, then his rough voice breaks free again.
“She was bipolar, unresponsive to meds, haunted by things that happened before I met her.” For a beat, his gaze finds mine. “I would’ve done anything for her, but you can’t love someone out of their pain, no matter how hard you try.”
His anguish wraps around me as if it’s my own. Disquiet spreads over us like a blanket, and we’re both transported to the past, our gazes fixed on the flames, ensnared in the same trance.
Until he moves.
It’s a slight shift, his warm and solid thigh brushing mine, but it’s enough to crash land me back on this couch with him, planting me in the present.
Because that bit of contact explodes in the space between us, inching him closer, my name a raspy sigh on his lips. That tone is all gravel and need, a longing for something more weighing down his lids.
It’s powerful.
Primal.
Undeniable.
Just like when he watches me every night as I writhe against my hand.
“They’re gone, Novalee, but we’re here.” He tangles his fingers into my damp strands, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
In fact, I’m sure of it as his attention dips to my mouth. For some incomprehensible reason, I don’t know if I’d try to stop him.
Isn’t wanting two men enough? Why am I feeling these things for Oliver Whitney?
But there’s something about him that tugs at my heartstrings, even when I wish it didn’t.
Am I that mentally unstable? Or is this a rebound?
I gnaw on my bottom lip, my heartbeat stumbling. “It’s your decision whether to touch me…but I’m asking you not to.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” His hand slides free of my tangled locks. “You’ve convinced yourself that by giving in, you’ll betray Sebastian’s memory.”
“That’s not true, I don’t—”
He takes me by the chin, locking me into place, making retreat impossible. “You’re allowed to want someone else. Believe it or not, it helps.”
“And you want to be that person.” There’s no question in my tone. Everything about this man screams I want you.
“Yes. If not me, then who?” He leans into me, his spicy scent invading my senses. “I know you miss him, but who else can make you feel like this?”
I lift my chin, forcing him to let go.
“Tell me, Novalee, because I know your blood’s rushing right now, causing an itch you’re dying to scratch.”
“What if it’s an itch I’ve already scratched?”
His brows furrow. “Liam?”
Silence is all he gets.
“I take it something happened before you transferred into my house?”
“Well, it sure hasn’t happened since.” Not even by my own hand. Truth is I’m not sure why I keep holding back, except…
It’s exhilarating, the way Oliver watches me every night. I’m becoming addicted to the attention, to the ache low in my core that lingers long after he’s gone.
And then there’s the anticipation. The possibility that one night he might actually step inside my bedroom.
It’s a secret hope I can barely admit to myself.
“I can’t do this with you.” I jump up from the couch and fold my arms across my chest.
But he’s right behind me.
Out of sight.
Not touching, just hovering.
“I think you can.” His exhale hits my nape, sending delicious shivers down my limbs. “And I think you want to, so I’m going to haunt your doorway every night until you do.”