Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
You are going to Hell, Oliver. No. You’re going somewhere worse. A new type of purgatory created to house you and your sins.
Briar leaned forward, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for always saving me.”
I patted her thigh awkwardly in response. My dick, which did not get the memo this was a crisis of gigantic proportions, immediately got hard. Time for a subject change.
“So …” I cleared my throat. “Tell me what you remember.”
She sat up straight, getting serious. “I remember pretty much everything up to when I was fourteen or fifteen. I remember our summer vacations on the lake. I remember my hobbies.” Her eyes twinkled. “I remember that day you found me staring at clouds on the lake, and we made out for hours until our lips bled.”
“Ah. My first taste of bloodplay.”
“Is that a kink you like?”
“Not particularly.”
Today, that is.
Over the years, I’d tried every kink in the book to get my better half going. It took ten years to finally admit that my only kink, my only type, was Briar Rose Auer.
“Hmm …” She tilted her head, brushing her thumb over my knuckle without really thinking about it. “I also remember fractures of what I’m pretty sure is my present.”
“Like what?”
“I remember I’m no longer in contact with my parents.” She hung her huge eyes on my face. “Is that true?”
I nodded. This tracked with the fact that the hospital couldn’t contact them. And the fact that she’d lumped me in with her parents and biological dad during our fight earlier. Oliver = Bad. Therefore, all three of her parents must’ve been, too.
Briar pinched her bottom lip, contemplating this. “I remember I changed my name to Briar from Briar Rose, but I don’t remember why. I know that I live in the US. I know that I work and that I love my work. What do I do?”
“You’re an intimacy coordinator.”
She blinked. “Is that, like, a real job?”
“You make sure actors feel comfortable during sex scenes. You’re very good at it. You make people feel comfortable in their own skin.”
“That’s nice.” She nodded, pausing to let that sink in. “What do you do?”
“I make people feel comfortable in other people’s skin,” I deadpanned. “Actually, I’m on the run for a few murder charges …”
She laughed, the pink returning to her cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so … warm. Her laughter. Her happiness. Her existence next to mine. They all defied the promise I’d made fifteen years ago.
Briar grinned. “Guess an intimacy coordinator makes sense. Must be all the practice I get with you, huh?”
My dick high-fived my zipper with unmatched enthusiasm. Couldn’t blame him. He had a head but no eyes. How else would he be able to read the situation?
“Practice makes perfect.” I cleared my throat, thinking about Doctor Cohen all but clutching my balls in his fist to ensure I didn’t burst her bubble. “And you and me are perfectionists, Cuddlebug.”
“When are we going home?”
“They’d like to have you here for observation for forty-eight hours.”
She mustered a shy smile. “Is it weird that I miss our house, and I don’t even remember one thing about it?”
One thing was certain – Briar didn’t remember my royal fuck up.
I brushed my thumb over her cheek, using every ounce of self-control in my body not to lean in and kiss her. It would be wrong. Immoral. Normally, I didn’t bother with these pesky things called morals. Values accumulated by experience, not reason, and my experience with life had been shitty.
But I wanted to do right by Briar.
I’d wronged her enough times already.
“It’s not weird at all.” I squeezed her hand back, knowing I’d started to dig an even deeper hole before a girl who’d only ever wanted a home. “Our house is awesome.”
“Do we have any pets?”
“Two dogs. Trio and Geezer.”
She scrunched her nose. “Were you responsible for the names?”
“They came named.”
“What breed?”
“Literally all of them.” I shrugged. “Both are rescues too antisocial and ratty to get adopted, so we had to take them. Trio has three legs and no respect for personal space. Geezer is seventeen, but still hanging in there. He’s a smaller breed, maybe thirty pounds, so we’re hoping for another couple good years with him.”
“Of course we rescued.” She bit her lower lip, suppressing a grin. “Are we good people, Ollie?”
“You’re amazing. I’m a menace to society, but we even each other out.”
She laughed. “I bet they are hideous and adorable.”
“Ugly as sin,” I confirmed, fishing my phone out of my pocket. “Let me show you.”
“Good idea. It might jog my memory.”
I knew it wouldn’t, since she’d never met them, but I still showed her the dogs, watching her coo and laugh and cry at their videos doing dumb dog shit.
How could I bring her into my house? I had someone else there. Someone who didn’t like sharing. Someone who had not had company in fifteen years.