Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"I love you. I love you."
I'm not sure if I'm chanting the words or if he is, but I feel them striking against my heart like a gong. They rattle through me, shaking me, shaking me, shaking me…and then I break.
I scream his name as my inner muscles clamp down on him and I come hard, convulsing and crying out his name. My arms and legs lock around him, trying to keep him as close to me as possible.
"Faith. Oh God, Faith." He pounds into me without rhythm as he catapults over the edge with me, his entire body taut. He spills into the condom over and over, moaning my name. He buries his face in my throat, whispering it there like a prayer and I feel it everywhere. Feel him everywhere.
As we come together, I'm a mess of sweat and love bites, engulfed in his arms and branded on his heart. Orgasm burns and gnashes and claws, ripping its way through me and stripping me to the bone. What it leaves behind isn't broken, and it isn't scarred, either. For the first time in my life…I'm finally whole.
Epilogue
Octavio
Three years later
"Faith?" I yell, dropping my keys, badge, and gun on the credenza table before stripping my shirt off over my head. "Where are you, angel?"
"In here!"
I follow the sound of her voice down the hall to our bedroom. Pushing the door open, I frown. She's curled up in the bed with the curtains drawn, the lights off, and the blankets over her head. Worry shoots through me.
"Angel? What's wrong?" I toss my shirt toward the bathroom and kick off my shoes, heading toward her.
"I don't feel well," she mumbles.
I pull the blankets back so I can see her and then sit carefully on the edge of the bed beside her. "You don't have a fever," I murmur, placing my hand against her forehead. She looks miserable though. Her eyes are watery, and her face is pale, especially around her lips.
"I've been throwing up all morning."
"Are you nervous about today, conejita?" I ask, brushing her hair away from her face.
"Yes. No." Her face scrunches up and she shrugs. "I don't know."
I smile at her, stroking her cheek. "It's a big day for you. You're graduating."
She wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls it toward her lips, kissing my knuckles, but she doesn't say anything for a long moment. Her honey eyes flit across my face, her expression serious. "Did you have a good morning?"
"No."
Her lips turn down into a frown.
"I missed you," I say, smirking at her.
She rolls her eyes at me and then laughs softly. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"No. I'm just miserable when I have to leave you alone in this bed to go to work. You're too damn beautiful, especially when you're naked and sleepy." I run a hand down her chest, brushing my thumb against her nipple. It hardens almost instantly, her back arching as she tries to get closer.
Dios, she's ravishing. She's filled out over the last three years. Her body is soft and curvy, her tawny skin as gorgeous as ever. Her hair flows down her back like silk, hitting her at the waist. She's blossomed from the sweet angel she was into something even more ethereal and rare. She still takes my breath away and makes my cock throb with need. Rarely a day goes by when I'm not inside her, making her come apart for me. Keeping my hands off her is no easier now than it was three years ago.
"Octavio," she whines when I pull back regretfully.
"None of that, little bunny. You're sick."
She stares up at me again. Her tongue peeks out to swipe across her bottom lip, making me frown. She's still so easy to read. Her honey eyes give away every thought that crosses her mind. So does that tongue.
"What's wrong?" I pick her up and place her in my lap before scooting back against the headboard. She curls up against me, laying her head on my shoulder. "You worried about being the center of attention today?"
She's graduating at the top of her class. She's been asked to give a speech during graduation today, but she's nervous about it. She's changed so much over the last three years, becoming confident and sure of herself and her place in the world. She had several surgeries to help repair old breaks, but they didn't slow her down any at all. She is fearless at times and so damn brave. But she still doesn't like to be the center of attention. Her safe place is with me, and I won't be on stage with her. She's anxious about having all eyes on her, but I'll be in the front row, cheering her on with the rest of our friends and family.
"A little bit," she admits, twining our fingers together in her lap. I brush my thumb back and forth over the cigarette burns on her thigh. "I've never really talked about what I went through to my classmates before. It's intimidating. I don't want anyone to think I was asked to give the speech because the faculty felt bad for me."