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 should cross the room and slap him across his chiseled face for making such a presumption. I should storm from the dim, tasteful office comprised of muted forest colors, steal Waylon’s truck and keep driving. Get far, far away from here and the conflicting emotions in my chest, the confusing waves of heat pulsing through my lower body. I don’t want this. I don’t want any man. I made that decision a long time ago.
But Caleb is giving me the green light to make more choices.
More decisions. Real ones. Concerning my own body. A body I’ve never truly explored because I resent it for all the attention it’s brought down on my head.
If Caleb is to be believed, he’s empowering me.
And I’m caught off guard. I’m struggling with how to react.
Righteous anger or…gratitude.
“What the hell did you just say?” Waylon finally shouts, spittle flying from his mouth, his face still red from that well-earned backhand.
Caleb’s expression is made of stone as he steps even closer to Waylon, so he’s looming above the smaller man. Smaller in every way. “You heard me.”
It’s unreal, watching my abuser shrink down to nothing. It’s like dragging in oxygen after swimming against the current all the way from the ocean floor.
It’s magical. It’s freedom.
It’s so freeing, in fact, that if I could, I would leave Waylon this very afternoon. I would file for an annulment and pursue my own life. A life of creativity and abundant thought. Writing stories. Letting my mind expand and run wild. But he still has my family by the throat. He could refuse to renew their lease on the land. He could strip them of their livelihood in a heartbeat. And he would. He’s vindictive. He’s unconscionable. How else to describe a man who could force me into marriage when he’s known me since I was in elementary school?
“Ashley,” Waylon says, twisting toward me on the couch, face purpling with impotence and rage. “You can’t really be considering this!”
I can’t.
I can’t.
Right?
Except I haven’t been able to think of anything but Caleb for two straight days. How he spoke to me with such understanding and respect. How he stood up for me. And those two compelling words written on the back of his business card.
Trust me.
“I decide how I’m to be…counselled?” I ask Caleb, sending Waylon into a sputter.
“That’s right.” Caleb ignores my husband and focuses on me, his blue eyes like a beckoning stretch of ocean. Deep and reliably turbulent, but also…eternal. Strong. Present. Renewing. “I’m going to help you learn about yourself. You’ll learn what you need. That way, you’ll know what to ask for. In a marriage.”
A marriage.
Not my marriage.
Interesting.
If I wasn’t such a wordsmith, I might have missed the slip.
What does it mean?
In any event, I’m not going to…sleep with Caleb. God no.
Not only would that be out of character, but being intimate with someone as a form of therapy is…extreme? Isn’t it?
Just for a moment, however, I allow myself to picture an act that I’ve heard described by men around the farm, when they don’t think I’m listening. I imagine myself reaching up from the couch to unfasten his belt, rubbing my palm against the swell in his pants while my husband watches helplessly from three feet away, his head falling shamefully into his hands while Caleb pushes his shaft between my waiting lips, groaning.
Stroking my hair lovingly while he pumps firmly. Inch by inch vanishing into my mouth. Holds himself deep while I whimper, blinking up at him.
A swallow catches in my throat when a foreign wetness gathers unexpectedly between my thighs. I almost look down to inspect, but I don’t want to draw attention to the issue. What…is that?
“Would you like Waylon to leave now, Ashley?” Caleb asks, eyes flickering.
I should take some time to consider my answer. Or the fact that Waylon is going to retaliate against me when he comes back from the fishing trip. But he’s going to be a putrid, violent monster, either way, isn’t he? I might as well gasp this final breath of freedom being offered. “Yes. I would.”
Waylon snorts, but he’s got a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. If we were at home, he would be in my face, shouting, shaking me. Threatening me. But right now, I don’t feel an ounce of fear, though, and it’s because Caleb is there. At the ready. “You think you’re going to get her into bed, man?” Waylon snorts again. “Ain’t no chance of that. She’s as frigid as they come. You’ll see.”
“If you think that’s true, you’re even dumber than you look, Waylon,” Caleb responds without missing a beat. “And it’s time for you to go.”
“If you think I’m going to leave my wife here to…to be—”
“Get the fuck out, Waylon. Before I throw you out.”
Oh lord. My heart is slamming sideways in my throat. That moisture that had started to trickle between my legs is more prominent now, soaking my panties. I’ve never felt the urge to touch myself. I thought that was for other women. Women who like sex. Like men. But if I was alone right now, I think I might slide my fingers among my wet flesh now and explore. My nipples tingle and plump inside my bra. What is happening to me?