Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
My heart aches as I say that. The only part of my life I refuse to let go of is my parents, Steven and Tracy. I spent the last six months feeling alone, wanting to call them so badly while scared that doing so would give Lucca a lead right to my doorstep. Turns out, I didn’t even have to do that because he found me anyway.
Lucca looks up and right into my eyes. His stare is so consuming it makes me want to look away, but I don’t. “No matter what, I’m not leaving here without you.”
“You can’t just barge back into my life and act like everything is okay.”
“I’m not. I told you how I fucked up and that I want you to be mine, and now you’re dragging your feet.”
“It took you six months to realize you want me. It took me leaving for you to get the guts to admit it to yourself. Sorry, but if you didn’t want me then, you don’t want me now. Plus, I’ve moved on. I don’t want you anymore.” It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize it the moment I say it, but I can’t take the words back now.
In the blink of my eyes, Lucca is on me, his hand in my hair, tugging on the strands, making my scalp scream in pain while forcing my attention on him. “Didn’t seem you were over me last night as you came on my hand, tongue, and cock. Maybe you should show how over me you are right now?”
The skin of my face heats with embarrassment, and I squeeze my eyes shut to hide the tears building there. I want Lucca so much it hurts, but I don’t want to risk heartache again. I don’t want him to control me. I want to be his equal. I want to be the one he loves, not the mistress.
“I…” Lucca moves closer, and I know this because I can feel his hot breath on my throat. “I want you, Claire, and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make it happen. What do you want from me? What can I do to make you see it? I know you felt it last night.” His lips press against my thundering pulse, and I shiver.
I blink my eyes open, and our gazes collide.
“I want my freedom, Lucca. I don’t want to be controlled. I know you’re possessive of me, but I can’t be your butterfly if I’m trapped in a cage.” A single tear slides down my cheek, and Lucca watches it intently. There’s a long pregnant pause, and he untangles his fingers from my hair.
Can I do this? Can I trust he won’t lock me in the ivory tower the second he has me right where he wants me? Can I trust he will choose me in the end?
“I don’t want to trap you, Claire,” Lucca finally says. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you or scare you. Your protection… it just means everything to me. Your safety, knowing you’re okay. It gives me life and makes me feel like even with all the fucked up, morally wrong things I’ve done in my life, at least I did one good thing by caring for you.”
He’s telling me everything I want to hear, but is it the truth?
I’m about to ask him about the letter, about the other woman he is in love with, but every time I open my mouth, my throat constricts.
My stomach grumbles again, and I’m reminded of the food sitting at the foot of the bed. Lucca smiles. “Are you hungry?”
I nod, and for the first time in a long time, I smile too.
Lucca grabs the tray and places it in front of me. I dig into the eggs and bacon and chug the glass of orange juice down before he’s even touched his plate of food.
“Uh, sorry.” I giggle.
“No, don’t be.” He grabs the other glass of orange juice and hands it to me. “I have no idea how you survived here with no food.”
Yeah, now would probably not be a good time to tell him I ate whatever I could get at the diner on break and a few crackers with peanut butter here and there.
After I’m finished with breakfast, I hesitate on whether I should ask Lucca if I can use his phone to call Steven and Tracy. I’ve wanted to call them since I got here, and now that Lucca is here, there’s no reason I shouldn’t call them.
“Would it be possible to… um, call my parents, maybe?”
“Yes. I told them I would have you call them as soon as I arrived, but… you know, you tried to beat me with a broom.”
I roll my eyes and extend my hand, waiting for him to place his phone in it. He pulls the black device from his pocket and offers it to me. The phone feels like a foreign object after going six months without using one. My fingers move over the screen, and before I can navigate to the dial pad, the phone rings.