Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“My momma didn’t raise no quitter,” I quip, getting on my knees and kissing his chest.
“How long you been here?” he asks me when I get off the bed.
“About a week.”
“And you’ve already got some country in you,” he jokes, and I shake my head.
“I’m always going to be a city girl. It’s been a New York minute,” I inform him, and he looks at me confused. “It’s a city term, Cowboy.” I turn, walking into the bathroom and turning on the water. I take a second to look at myself in the mirror, and I inwardly cringe. My hair is literally all over the place. I move my neck to the side, looking at all the little red dots from his beard along with a light purple hickey right in the middle of my neck. I run my fingers over it as if it’s going to go away. “Fuck,” I swear, then look down at the little bite marks all over me. I brush my teeth before going to the bathroom and then slipping on the white robe I have hanging in there.
I step out of the bathroom and hear noise coming from downstairs, along with the smell of coffee. I walk down, finding him in the kitchen. His back is to me, wearing his jeans as he takes a sip of his coffee before walking to the fridge. “Sweetheart, you have nothing in your fridge,” he says over his shoulder when he sees me there.
“I know. I have to go to the grocery store.”
“You have two eggs and three pieces of bacon.” He shakes his head. “Who are you going to feed with that?”
“Um, at least two people,” I tell him, and he gasps.
“Two people, where?” I walk over to him, grabbing the cup of coffee he made for me. “Don’t know how you like your coffee, Sweetheart, so all I put in it is milk.”
“Then it’s perfect,” I say, taking a sip when the phone rings again.
I walk over to my jacket and take it out. Looking down, I see Daniel is trying to call me. I press decline, and when I look up, he’s staring at me. “Who the fuck is calling you at seven o’clock in the morning?”
“That would be my fiancé,” I say, and his jaw gets tight. “Sorry, ex-fiancé.”
“So you aren’t engaged?” He leans back against the counter with one arm extended by his side while he drinks his coffee.
“Two weeks ago, I was engaged.” I walk back into the kitchen, grabbing my coffee. “I came home from picking out my wedding dress to find him balls deep in his coworker.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “He cheated on you?” he asks, like it’s the most outrageous thing to ever be said.
“He did and might be the father to two of her children.” I laugh at how absurd it sounds.
“He cheated on you?” he asks again, as if he didn’t hear what I said the first time.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
He shakes his head as if he’s trying to get the whole picture. “Did you give him sex?”
“Wow,” I snap, “I tell you that he cheated on me, and the first thing you ask is ‘did you give him sex’?”
He holds up his hand to stop me from ranting. “That isn’t what I meant. Obviously, him cheating on you is a dick move.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, “but the answer is, I guess I didn’t give him enough if he went out of his way to have sex with her four to six times a week.” The thought of that alone still stings me, especially since we had sex maybe twice a month. Looking back on it, this might be why.
He brings the cup to his mouth and takes a sip. “Sweetheart, was it anything like the sex we had?”
“I don’t know.” I look at him. It’s not like I got more moves in my bag. It’s pretty much the same thing, right? How does one answer this? I mean, obviously, sex is different between different people, and the sex with Gabriel is top tier, but it’s not like I’m a different person.
“He’s a fucking idiot.” He laughs. “Sweetheart, if you had sex with him like you have sex with me, he’s the biggest fucking idiot of life.” He shakes his head, and if I think that statement shocks me, it’s nothing like what comes out of his mouth next. “Fuck, I’d rush you to the altar now if I could.”
12
GABRIEL
“Fuck, I’d rush you to the altar now if I could.” Her eyes about bulge out of their sockets, and I try not to laugh as I wink at her, showing her it was a joke. Sort of. When she said it was her fiancé, I about threw the coffee cup across the room. But then she told me ex-fiancé, and I calmed down a bit. But only a bit. My nerves were still high-strung, and I had to tell myself I was only angry because if she had a fiancé and fucked me, that would make me an asshole. But I would be lying to myself. The reason I was pissed was because she couldn’t belong to someone else, not as long as I was here.