Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
And another blow job.
I rather liked the way my days off transpired now.
I rolled over, looking at her. Once again, we’d broken the rules, and she was staying the night. Her cat was curled into my dog at the foot of the bed now that it was a peaceful place. Casey was nestled next to me, her head on the pillow, her long hair everywhere. I smoothed it off her face, staring at her.
Her story bothered me. I hated how alone she’d been all her life and that the only person to unconditionally love her was gone.
I understood why Lou was so intensely private about her past life. She’d lost a little girl she thought of as her own, and it had hurt her terribly. The two of them needed each other, but because of an uncontrollable illness, a broken friendship, and a selfish mind-set, they were denied that chance.
But through some twist of fate, I got to have Casey—at least for a little while. Neither of us believed in forever, but we could be happy in the moment. I had to admit, I liked her. More than I could recall liking someone in a very long time.
And I trusted her—something I never thought I would do again.
I studied her in the dim moonlight from the window. She looked tiny in my bed, and I often forgot her small stature when she was arguing with me, her chin high and her eyes flashing in defiance. In the shower, I had seen the bruises she’d given herself trying to carry the ladder. And I was worried I’d been carried away manhandling her, but she told me off, letting me know her thoughts on the subject loudly. I loved that about her. She was tough, independent, yet I spotted moments of vulnerability. Like when she told me about Lou. Or later, when she relived the memory that took her to the tree. I had laughed with her but saw the flitting sadness in her eyes as she told me about making the huge wind chime rope and hanging it.
I wished I could give her back more memories, but I was uncertain how. Then a memory Lou shared with me once hit me, and I picked up my phone, scanning the weather for the next day.
Maybe I could help her. Make her smile again.
I was shocked how much I wanted to do that.
I set aside my phone and pulled her closer. She nestled in with a little sigh, resting her hand on my heart.
As if it belonged there.
As if it belonged to her.
I pushed that incredibly stupid idea out of my brain.
This was for now.
That was all.
Even if it felt right.
As I had learned, nothing was forever, and love was a fickle thing.
Right now was always the best idea. No one got hurt.
The laughter in my head was loud at that thought.
Chapter Twenty
CASEY
Iwoke up to an empty bed, the sheets cold to my touch. I could smell coffee, and I heard Thorne’s voice outside and Miller’s excited bark. I sat up, drawing my legs to my chest and looking around.
Thorne’s bedroom was simple. It was painted a creamy coffee color, the trim a bright white. The floors were the original hardwood, and he’d obviously had them stripped and redone, the gleam of the dark stain working well with the wall color.
His bed was heavy wood. Masculine. Simple white sheets and a plaid comforter with browns and greens mixed in were all he had on the bed. No extra pillows, no shams.
The rest of the furniture was the same. Simple, substantial—no adornments. His closet was open, his clothes neat and orderly. His en suite had a huge shower I enjoyed using. No bathtub.
And the room smelled like him. Clean, crisp, and pleasing. His scent was always warm in my nose, making me want to be closer to him.
I sighed, thinking how I kept waking up here. We weren’t following the rules. Either his or mine.
Yet, I didn’t want to stop.
Thorne was a surprisingly good listener. He rarely interrupted me, only making a few comments to prompt me or sympathize. He’d held my hand the whole time I’d told him about Lou and growing up. Stroked my leg in comfort, played with my hair. He had a thing for it, it seemed. I noticed how often he touched my hair, tucked it behind my ear, ran his hand over my head, and sifted his fingers through it when I was close.
I had a thing for him touching me.
“Hey,” his voice called from the door. “You’re awake.”
I looked over, my breath catching. He wore a tight T-shirt, molding to his chest and arms. A pair of long shorts. His feet were in sandals, his legs bare. He’d had a shower, his hair still damp. He smiled at me, holding a cup of coffee.