Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
He leaned back in his chair.
“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, unfortunately. I do wish you the best.”
He was dismissing me. Like he was better than me. The sniveling prick.
“As much as I’m sure your word is good, forgive me if I wouldn’t prefer to hear the words from Kane’s mouth.” I straightened my spine. “Even if what you say is true—”
“It is,” he interrupted.
I gritted my teeth against the rage brewing in my stomach. “I’m sure it is,” I said tightly, not believing a word he said. “But I have other matters to discuss with him.”
Brax arched a disbelieving brow at me. He was trying to make me feel small. Small, desperate and unimportant. I’d had many inferior men try that shit with me.
“You can discuss the matters with me, then I’ll pass them on.”
In his fucking dreams.
“These matters are private,” I replied, wanting to shriek yet keeping my tone calm yet unyielding. “And as I said, I’d prefer to speak directly with Kane.”
Brax rose, walking around the desk with a cocky gait before leaning against the side of it to regard me. “Let me guess,” he folded his arms in front of him. “He told you he loved you. That this was ‘it’ for him.” I struggled not to wince when he used air quotes.
Kane had said both of those things, but they were things couples in love often said. Brax was screwing with me. I knew it.
Maybe because he didn’t like me—weak men didn’t usually like women they couldn’t bully—or just because he could.
“Again I’d—”
“I know.” He clicked his fingers, again interrupting me. “He said that he wanted to sell his penthouse, get rid of all the playboy shit, artifacts of an old life and buy a little cabin in the woods of Vermont with you. Except he never took you to his apartment because it was being ‘renovated,’ so you actually don’t even know where he lives.”
“Do you think of the future?” Kane asked, his finger lazily trailing over my areola.
My entire body shivered, and need built in the base of my spine, even though we had just finished having magnificent sex.
I struggled to focus on the question. “I think of the future insofar as how the weather in certain growing regions of the country will affect crops and, therefore, quality of fresh, local produce and, therefore, my menu.”
Kane’s hand settled on my chest, over my heartbeat which was jackhammering, despite the calm tenor to my voice.
His chuckle was low, deep and sultry. “A woman after my own heart. My view of the future is pretty much wondering how much powder they’re gonna get in New Zealand during the winter and if I’ll piss off my sponsors if I blow off summer games here.”
“Not exactly the same.” I glanced up at him.
He tucked hair behind my ears. “Same spirit. We think of the future only in regard to how it affects our day to day. But you don’t think about … white picket fences, kids, dogs?”
I let out a half-hysterical laugh.
Kane wasn’t smiling.
“I look like the June Cleaver type to you?” I asked him.
“You look like you.” He dragged his knuckles down my cheek. “And you’re a woman who ensures that she gets whatever she desires in life.”
“That most definitely isn’t a picket fence or dogs.”
“Kids?” he murmured softly.
My heart skipped. This conversation was getting serious. Fast.
“No,” I told him honestly. “I don’t think I’d be a good mother. I shut off too many emotions too young. I’m too selfish. Too regimented with my routine. I wouldn’t do well with the havoc children bring.”
It’s something I’d thought of sparingly over the years. Since it was getting to be the time for me to freeze my eggs if I wanted them in the future.
I didn’t voice my fear that I’d fuck up a child, fail at motherhood. The fears that had stopped me from considering if I really wanted it.
“You do pretty fucking well with the chaos I bring.” Kane’s gaze and tone told me he was serious. “And you are far from selfish, as my cock would attest to.”
I smiled. “Kind of different, don’t you think?”
His eyes swam with something I couldn’t decipher.
“Do you? Want kids?” I found myself asking a question I didn’t want the answer to. Afraid his answer might show how different our futures would be, further putting a time limit on this relationship.
He didn’t respond straightaway, I could see him thinking. He wasn’t going to pacify me; he was going to give me an honest reply.
“Maybe,” he said as my heart dropped. “Maybe if I wasn’t so fucked-up. If I didn’t have mommy issues that I recognize are not completely dealt with. Maybe if I didn’t enjoy picking up and leaving on a whim. Maybe if I’d had a better father.” He chuckled without humor. “So no. No kids.”