Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Maybe. But how do you ever work through the fact that your own mother didn’t want you? Or love you enough? It’s like this stupid voice in the back of my head that I can’t turn off.”
He pulled me close again. “I wish I had a good answer. I can’t turn off the voices in my head either.”
Everything about his embrace soothed me—the hard body beneath the clothes, the clean masculine scent, the warmth of his skin. “Thanks for chasing me in here. I guess I did need you.”
“I like when you need me.” He didn’t speak for a moment, and then I heard him swallow. “I wish things were different.”
“Different how?”
“All kinds of ways.” He paused. “I wish I had my magic powers back.”
I laughed. “You’re enough without them.”
“What would you wish for?”
I’d wish for the guts to tell you I love you. Because I don’t need you to be perfect or magical. I just need you to stay with me.
But a wound had been opened up tonight, and it was too big a risk. In New York, when we’d talked about the forever kind of happiness, he hadn’t offered me hope. He’d offered to meet me in New York once a year. He’d offered me a piece of his life, of his time, maybe even of his heart, but not the whole thing.
I’d never wanted anyone’s whole heart before, and I didn’t know how to ask for it. I’d spent too many years being afraid, running away, convincing myself love was a losing game.
“I’d wish for some ice cream, a bubble bath, and an orgasm—probably in that order,” I said instead.
He laughed, probably relieved. “Now that I can deliver.”
SIXTEEN
HUTTON
I hadn’t slept well since we’d gotten back from New York.
It was easy to blame my restlessness on the upcoming hearing, my nerves about public speaking, my irritation with Wade, my fears that things would not go well and not only would HFX go under, but my credibility would be shot too. Then my net worth would crumble, and I’d go down in history as the guy who single-handedly tanked the digital currency industry in a day.
It was a lot.
But there was more to it.
Beneath the surface of my anxiety was this creeping unease that somewhere I’d made a wrong turn with Felicity. I couldn’t pinpoint the moment where things had gone off-track, I just sensed that things were not okay. When I did manage to fall asleep, I had nightmares about being caught in a storm, flood waters rising all around me. I could hear Felicity’s voice but couldn’t see her.
I’d wake up sweating and shaking, unsure what it meant. Did the flood symbolize my fear of things out of my control? But things weren’t out of control. We’d mapped this out so carefully. We had a plan, and the plan made sense. We had a timeline and an exit strategy. We wouldn’t be caught by surprise.
No one was going to be rejected. Nobody would be hurt. That was the beauty of it. We’d stay friends.
Except . . . I didn’t want to make an exit.
I hadn’t gotten enough of her. I hadn’t gotten enough of the way I felt when we were together. I’d showed her more of me than I’d ever showed anyone, and she accepted me.
But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that would change with the pressure of a real relationship, especially long-distance. The whole reason we were so good together is because it was all for fun. We were in on a secret in a way that pitted us against the world, not one against the other. If we were dating for real, she’d grow tired of my bullshit. She’d stop teasing me and making her little witch hat and start rolling her eyes, sighing heavily, and thinking I wasn’t worth the hassle. I’d been through it before.
You’re being ridiculous.
Stop being selfish.
You need to get over yourself.
She wouldn’t look at me the same way. And that was unthinkable.
But what was the alternative? Never having her in my arms again? Never kissing her? Tasting her? Never knowing the unbelievable ecstasy of moving inside her, feeling her body wrapped around mine?
Fuck that. I couldn’t give her up. Not yet.
But time was running out. It was Monday. I was leaving for D.C. on Wednesday, back on Friday. Our party was Saturday, and then we’d have two weeks at most to break up, move away from each other, and go on leading separate lives. Unless I thought of another way.
I tossed and turned as the hours passed.
Toward dawn, a solution came to me.
When I got back from my run, Felicity was still asleep. I showered and dressed, then stood at the foot of the bed, watching her for a moment. She was so damn adorable—she hugged a pillow when she slept like a kid holds a teddy bear. I envied that pillow and wished I had the time to crawl back in bed with her.