Memories of a Life (Life #4) Read Online Jewel E. Ann

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Life Series by Jewel E. Ann
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
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I think his buzz has worn off. Mine is still swirling in my head, but it doesn’t numb my conscience to the words he’s saying.

“If you weren’t doing this for me, I would take my own life. And I’d do it in a way that no one would be around to save me. So please always, always remember that you didn’t kill me. I’m already dead. And while I can’t be him in this life any longer, I’ve loved my life. I love my family. I loved my job. And I love Colten to the very deepest parts of my soul. So for this life I love, this life I don’t want to leave, I owe it one last chance. I owe it the greatest risk, no matter how tiny the chance might be. I am making this decision with a sound mind, even if slightly buzzed.” I manage a small grin, but Felix struggles to find one of his own.

“No keeping a vegetable. Understood? Throw out the vegetable.”

After a few seconds, Felix nods.

First, he inserts an IV and makes sure the crash cart and epinephrine are ready.

Then he walks behind me and ties my wrists together so I can’t fight him. My heart jumps, gallops, takes off like a fighter plane. When he walks around to the front of me again, I blink, and several tears work their way out.

Felix isn’t immune to the harsh reality either. His Adam’s apple bounces over and over while he glances toward the ceiling to keep from blinking.

“Thank you,” I whisper when I can’t find a strong voice behind the emotion.

The adrenaline.

The fear.

I’m scared. I don’t want to die. But I can’t be him. I say this to myself over and over again. I wish it made it easier to let go, but it doesn’t.

Felix stares at the bag in his hands. A gun would be easier and faster. Carbon monoxide would be more peaceful. A drug overdose would increase my chances of coming back. But this … this is how he has to die. This is how he has to leave me. Of that, I am certain. Winston left that life by hanging. I’m not asking Felix to do that to me, but this will be close. Close enough.

When Felix lifts his gaze to mine, I nod once.

He puts the bag over my head and seals it with a tight grip and several firm twists. Felix’s jaw clenches while he holds the bag in place and closes his eyes. I don’t want to fight, but I do. I don’t want to panic, but I do. I don’t want to feel pain, but I do. My oxygen hungry retinas cause my vision to blur while my mind tries to change its mind. It’s too late. There is no going back now. There is only … darkness.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Felix

“God, I missed you.” Isabella jumps up from the sofa when I get home from work.

“I would have picked you up from the airport,” I say when she hurls herself into my arms.

“I know, but I took an earlier flight, and I knew you were working.” With her arms draped around my neck, she grins and gives me a slow kiss.

I need her kiss.

When she reaches for my tie, loosening it, I decide I need that too. I need her in every way. I need her body to distract my mind. I need her soft moans to spur some life back into my black soul.

Our clothes pile up at our feet, and we make it up three stairs before I’m inside of her.

“F-Felix …” She giggles, wriggling away from me.

She gets up two more stairs before I hook her waist and take her from behind, her knees on one step, her hands two steps higher. This time she doesn’t giggle. Her fingers dig into the runner rug, and she grunts with each thrust.

Fucking my wife like an animal on the stairs is a good way to not think about Josephine Watts in my storage unit … in a coma.

“Oh god … Felix …” She wiggles her ass, doing the work for me as the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

I grip her hips and enjoy the view. Her long auburn hair splays along her face as she looks over her shoulder at me, mouth slightly agape with each tiny grunt.

Uh. Uh. Uh …

They’re little staccatos drowning the memory of Josephine trying to scream inside the plastic bag.

She gives me a tiny smirk and pulls away from me, running the rest of the way up the stairs. I chase her down the hallway and into the bedroom, where I pin her beneath me and wedge myself between her spread legs.

My tongue flicks her nipple, and she whispers, “Tie me up.” She lifts her hips and grinds against me while stretching her arms above her head toward the bed posts in surrender.



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