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)
My eyes are no longer haunted, surrounded by anxious white lines.
My hair is down, wavy and a little messy, because Caleb can’t stop himself from kissing me every time we pass each other in the house or in the office. He sinks those skillful fingers into my hair and robs me of reason, my feet swept clean off the ground.
I’m wearing a flowing, strapless periwinkle dress with a smock top that hugs my breasts. I’m barefoot. My expression is clear and I have a sense of fulfilment that boggles the mind, considering it only took three days to achieve it.
What could I feel in a month?
A year?
One thing I know for sure is I’ll still love Caleb a year from now.
A millennium from now.
I’ll still trust him.
Which is why I turn now and walk through the house slowly, toward his office where my husband has freshly arrived. Only a moment ago, his truck pulled into the lane outside the office and he climbed out, spitting carelessly into the grass and scratched his crotch as I watched from Caleb’s bedroom window.
What a donkey.
Outside Caleb’s office now, I pause with my hand on the doorknob to examine what I’m feeling. Not fear. Not dread. Only…triumph.
With that, I push the door open and walk into the office like I own the place, stopping beside Caleb where he leans against his desk, spine straight and proud, watching Waylon without blinking, a muscle ticking in his cheek. I brush my knuckle against the outside of Caleb’s thigh, just to have a connection, because not touching him is impossible, and I look my tormentor—my family’s tormentor—right in the eye.
“Hello, Waylon.”
His gaze widens almost comically, taking in my transformation. He gawks at my unbound hair, the healthy color in my face, my permanently swollen mouth, my uncharacteristic attire, the skin I now refuse to hide, if only so Caleb can touch it.
“Ashley?” he sputters, his attention flying to Caleb. “I barely recognize you.”
“I do,” I say. “I finally recognize the woman looking back at me in the mirror.”
“Take a good look, Waylon.” Without taking his eyes off my husband, Caleb holds out his hand and I take it without hesitation, letting him guide me in front of him. Less than five feet away from Waylon, Caleb pulls me back into his warmth, urging me up onto my toes so my backside finds the groove of his lap, the pads of his middle fingers slowly dragging up the outsides of my arms, making me shiver hotly. “This is what a woman looks like when she’s been given her power back. When she’s been given safety and allowed to flourish on her own terms. This is what a woman looks like when she’s happy and satisfied. Fulfilled inside and out.”
Waylon gulps. “Look, I thought about this while I was gone and…” He waves a hand around. “I don’t want to know how you fixed the girl, I just want to pick her up and take her home, so I can get to the benefiting part.”
Caleb’s chest tenses against my back. “Oh, is that what you’d like to do?”
“Yup,” Waylon stands.
“Sit the fuck down,” Caleb growls.
Waylon sits like a scolded child, red blanketing his face.
It’s everything I can do not to turn and kiss Caleb, the way my body yearns for me to do every moment of the day now. Ceaselessly.
“You think only of how you’ll benefit,” Caleb says, and I can tell he’s barely holding on to his temper. “What about her?” He gently spears his fingers into my hair and takes hold, tilting my head to the right and perching his open mouth on the curve of my neck, shooting lustful sparks every which way in my tummy. “I spent three days doing exhaustive research on this sweet angel’s needs. You don’t want to know my findings?”
“N-n-no. Like I said—”
“I heard what you said,” Caleb enunciates. “You’re going to listen anyway. This session is only getting started.”
I’m not startled when Caleb picks me up and carries me over to the other side of his desk, turns me around to face him—away from Waylon—planting me on the hard, cool wood of the furniture. Three days ago, I never would have turned my back on Waylon for fear of him striking or grabbing me before I could evade him, but with Caleb’s hard body crowding into the V of my thighs, I feel nothing but breathless excitement.
A positivity that he’s watching my back.
A giddy kind of anticipation that blooms when he slides the hem of my dress over my knees, smoothing the cotton all the way to my hips, exposing my naked sex to him. Only him, not Waylon. My husband’s point of view is my back, my spread thighs…and our therapists hands slipping out of view to clutch my bottom, jerking me to the very edge of the desk and up against his lap, causing a sob of his name to erupt from my mouth.