Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“I’ll start easy. How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
Am I surprised he’s thirteen years my senior? Yes. But only because I hadn’t considered his age until now. Perhaps because he’s so timeless. Still…wow. I’m not only engaging in an intimate relationship with someone other than my husband, he’s a lot older than me. Unlike my age gap with Waylon, the one with Caleb only makes me feel more secure. More…sure of him. As though his experience only puts me in the surest hands, instead of primed to be taken advantage of.
He’s studying my face. “Does our age difference bother you?”
“No. I, um…”
“What?”
My face is hot. “I like it.”
“Do you?” his voice is like gravel. “For the same reason you like calling me Daddy?”
I don’t realize the tiny muscles of my sex are sore from orgasming until they slowly yank tight now, like zip ties, wetness dripping gently into my panties. This man is my Daddy. “Yes.”
An unholy light pools in his eyes. “Ask your next question, before I make another mess, angel.”
I press my palms to my knees to stop them shaking. “You’re new to Lunson, but you’re not from town originally. Where were you before?”
He exhales in a measured way. “Chicago.”
“Did you go to school there?”
After a brief hesitation, he says, “I went through the academy.”
“The academy. Were you a…cop?”
A line hops in his cheek. “Once upon a time, yes.” He pauses. “I was going to save the universe, but it didn’t want to be saved.” He forces a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Suffice it to say, I’m no longer suited for that line of work.”
I process everything he’s just revealed. Big city law enforcement. Of course. Since the beginning, my gut told he wasn’t an average, everyday therapist. His actions since we met have only bolstered that theory. My mind drifts back to Caleb looming over Waylon, as if interrogating him for murder. How safe I felt walking into the restaurant with his hand on my back, his eyes scanning the faces of customers, clocking the exits.
“What are you thinking about, Ashley?”
A slow wave of goosebumps travels down my arms. Over his attentiveness. The rasping way he says my name. “I…was, um.” I release the odd, pent-up giddiness building in my chest. “I was thinking that marrying Waylon made me feel like an adult for the wrong reasons. But knowing I’m on a date with someone who has already lived enough to be a former cop from Chicago…I guess I feel grown up tonight in a good way.”
Underneath the table, his warm hand slides onto my knee, massaging it firmly. “Why do you think that is?”
Tingles carry upward, targeting my sex, making it achy. Swollen. “You’ll use your age to our advantage, instead of against me.”
Lust flares in his face. “I’ll never use anything against you.”
“I know,” I whisper, wishing we were sitting on the same side of the table. I want to crawl into his lap and feel him everywhere. But I’m distracted by our unfinished conversation. “You left the force and moved all the way to Lunson. Something bad must have happened.”
After a full five seconds, he gives a barely perceptible nod.
I place my hand over his, where it sits high on my knee. “Will you tell me?”
“I’m worried it’ll trigger you, angel.”
“If I’m triggered, you’ll soothe me.”
After an intense moment, he nods. “Yes, I will.” Five seconds tick by. “My partner killed his wife,” he reveals in a tone that hints at a deeper agony. “I didn’t see it coming. He never displayed any of the classic hallmarks of a violent offender. Of the two of us, he was the easy-going one. Or so I thought. I thought their marriage was happy.” He rakes a hand down his face. “But knowing what I know now…there were signs. Signs I’ve committed myself to recognizing now, as a therapist.”
Pain is lancing me in the throat. “I’m so sorry that happened, Caleb.”
“Now I spend my life figuring out how men think. I have no delusions that I’ll be able to change people who are inclined to mistreat others, but…” He shakes his head. “The other option is to let the guilt over what happened consume me.”
A worry wiggles its way beneath my skin. “You’re not…interested in saving me out of guilt, are you? That’s not what attracted you to me, right?”
The intensity he emits from the other side of the table makes it impossible to breathe. “Your marriage is what brought you into my life, but it’s not what’s keeping you here. In my thirty-three fucking years, I’ve never felt anything close to what I feel for you.”
“Pity?” I challenge, swallowing.
“Admiration. Protectiveness. Wonder. Fascination. Need. My God, the fucking need,” he breaks off, visibly trying to gather himself and the waiter picks that moment to appear, setting down our food, while another refreshes our glasses of wine. “That’s what I feel when I look at you. Not guilt or pity. The fact that you’re…”