Текст книги "Imperfect"

Автор книги: Cherry Shephard

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

 

I groan as Shannon opens the curtains, throwing a hand over my eyes to block the sudden light.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she sings as she moves around the room, albeit a little slowly in the wheelchair.

“What time is it?” I ask, cracking open my eyes as I lower my arm to watch her. She’s wearing one of my long shirts with no pants. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, but there’s a twinkle in her eye. I have the feeling that twinkle will be trouble.

“It’s almost noon.” She smiles brightly, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. She’s so damn beautiful. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. My head is pounding and as beautiful as Shannon is, her happy mood is starting to grate on my nerves just a little bit.

“What are you doing?” I ask, watching as she wheels around the room, grabbing my clothes off the floor. I glance down and feel my face flush. “Did you undress me?”

“Of course,” she replies, glancing at me in surprise. “You couldn’t expect me to let you sleep in wet clothes, could you?”

“Of course not,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Great.” She smiles, her arms full of dirty clothes. “Where’s your washing machine?”

“Um, it’s out the back on the porch,” I answer, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “But leave it; I’ll get it later.”

“It’s fine,” Shannon says, turning the wheelchair around. “I’ll be right back.”

She leaves the room, and I pull on a pair of black shorts and walk out into the living room, but I stop dead when I see it. The whole room is spotless. All the beer bottles have been cleared away, the empty takeaway containers thrown out. She’s even cleaned the couch and scrubbed the coffee table. The whole room smells like a combination of flowers and bleach. It hasn’t looked this way in months.

I shake my head and walk out onto the back porch. Shannon is humming a country tune as she dumps the clothes into the front loader and turns it on. I watch as she carefully spins the chair around and wheels over to the upturned table. The wheel bumps into it and I hurry to help her. “Let me,” I offer, picking the table up effortlessly and standing it upright. She beams at me, and it’s like a ray of fucking sunshine straight to my heart.

“Thank you,” she says as she straightens the books and magazines. “Why don’t you head in and put some coffee on? I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Okay,” I reply slowly, my brow creasing as I turn around and walk back inside.

I’m not really sure how I feel about Shannon cleaning my house. I’m embarrassed; she must think I’m such a pig. The house looks and smells amazing, though. I really should thank her. I plug the coffee maker in and turn it on, opening the fridge to grab myself my usual breakfast beer. My hand reaches in blindly and I freeze, slowly turning my head toward the open fridge.

There’s no beer.

My breathing becomes shallow and I start to hyperventilate. Stomach churning, I have to lean over the table to stop from throwing up. My hands are clammy and shaking as I turn back to the fridge, moving things around, desperately searching for just one bottle. I pull various foods out, one by one, and still come up empty-handed.

“I guess you noticed, huh?” Shannon says in a quiet voice behind me.

I turn slowly to face her, my harsh breathing loud in the quiet room. “What did you do?” I ask in a low voice, anger coursing through me when she just sits there, looking at me. I stomp over to her, leaning forward as I grab the arms of the wheelchair, pushing my face into hers. She flinches and recoils, but there’s nowhere for her to escape. “What. The fuck. Did you do?” I speak slowly, emphasizing each word as I grit my teeth.

She pales, but juts out her chin bravely and meets my eyes with a steely determination. “I got rid of it,” she barks.

“You got rid of it,” I repeat hollowly. “I see that. Where is it?”

“I poured it down the sink.”

No no no no no! I scream in my head. Shoving away from the wheelchair I rake a hand over my head. I can’t look at her, can’t speak to her. Doesn’t she fucking know I need my beer?

A roar of fury rips from my chest and I sweep my arm across the counter, knocking the coffee maker to the ground and spilling boiling water all over myself. Shannon screams and pushes the wheelchair back, but I still can’t look at her. I can’t breathe, and my chest is tight, like it’s about to cave in. I gasp for air as I lean over, my palms flat on the table.

“Stone,” she says in a quiet voice. I raise my eyes to her. Her eyes are wide and terrified; she’s clearly scared of what I might do. Doesn’t she know I’d never hurt her? I can’t comfort her, though. Not now. “I need to get the fuck out of here,” I mutter, pushing away from the table and searching for my keys. They’re not in their usual spot; where the fuck are they?

“You can’t leave,” Shannon tells me, following me into the living room. I don’t look at her as I toss the cushions off the couch and shove my hand down the back of it. I feel an assortment of dust and a few loose coins, but no keys.

“Why not?” I ask, still not looking at her.

“Because Keets has your keys.”

I freeze as what she said sinks in. I risk a glance at her, half-expecting to see her holding the keys up with a grin. She’s serious.

I feel like my world is crumbling around my feet. “Why does Keets have my keys?”

“He came over this morning and picked them up.”

“He came over this morning and picked them up,” I mirror, emotionless. “Can I ask why you’re doing this?”

“I just wanted to help,” she says in a quiet voice.

It’s my undoing. “Who the fuck asked you for help, Shannon?” I explode. “Huh? It sure as shit wasn’t me.”

“Stone, I—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt her. “What gives you the right to come into my house and fuck everything up?”

“Fuck everything up?” she says in disbelief. “Fuck what up, Stone? You’re a middle-aged pig who lives in his own filth and cares more about his next beer than he does about his own son.” She’s yelling now. “Have you even thought about Zeke? Just once?”

“Of course I have!” I shout back. “I’ve done nothing but think of him since he came into my life.”

“I can tell,” Shannon says sarcastically.

“What would you know?” I ask. “You’re young, you’re fucking gorgeous and you’ve got the devotion of everyone you meet. You don’t have to deal with any kind of shit like this.”

“Seriously?” She gives a short bark of laughter. “Ethan Stone, you need a serious reality check. I lost my dad last year, my ex-boyfriend beat on me, and I’ve got creditors hanging around Saddles trying to buy it out from under me. You think I have a great life? Think again, buster.”

I stare at her. “Someone’s trying to buy Saddles?”

She sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah,” she admits quietly. “Daddy borrowed a lot of money from the wrong people. I have just over two weeks to sell the bar, or who knows what they’ll do to me?”

I curse and drop to my knees in front of the wheelchair. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

She shakes her head, a small smile crossing her pinched face. “It’s my problem,” she says.

“No one can do this alone,” I tell her, touching her hand gently.

“You should take your own advice.”

I can’t help the grin that splits my face. “You’re right,” I agree, standing back up. “I have a problem; I know it, and you know it. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“Have you considered getting help?”

“You mean a shrink?” I ask.

She nods.

“I don’t know,” I say, collapsing onto one of the single armchairs. “I mean, I guess I always thought I was too messed-up to change.”

“It’s never too late to change,” she states with a smile. “Your son needs you, Stone. You need to do this for him.”

I stare at her for a few minutes, contemplating everything she’s said. Her sanity seems to make it through my madness. Is she right? Is there still hope for me? I would do anything to rid myself of the voices that plague my thoughts, the nightmares that keep me awake. What could it hurt?

“Okay.” I nod slowly, watching the relief flood her face. “I’ll give it a go.”

 

One year ago…

 

I glance around the small apartment I’ve shared with Troy for the past few years. It’s funny, there are things of mine everywhere … but it’s never really felt like home.

I wander into the bedroom and close the door behind me. I can’t help the slight shiver that runs through my body as I stare at the large bed that was once home to beautiful memories. Now, all I see is pain¸ heartbreak … and fear. I sit on the edge of the bed and play with the edge of the blanket. Can I really do this? Can I just pack up and leave?

I jump when the front door slams, and I take slow, deep breaths as I stand up and look at the suitcase beside the bedroom door. It’s time.

“Shannon!” Troy’s voice roars through the small apartment. I flinch inwardly, but keep my face carefully stoic. He’s clearly just realized there’s no dinner on the table.

The bedroom door flies open and he’s standing there, his hair messed and his hands clenched into fists as he breathes heavily. “What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls, taking a step into the room. His foot hits my suitcase and he looks down at it . . . then back at my pale face. “Going somewhere?”

“I-I can’t do this, Troy,” I stammer, tears already filling my eyes. “I have to go home.”

“Home?” he sneers, kicking my suitcase. “Home?” he’s shouting now. “This is your fucking home. Did I say you could go anywhere?”

I’m so scared, but suddenly I’ve had enough. I’m so tired of the abuse, the humiliation . . . the pain. I straighten up and stare at him through my tears. “No, you didn’t. But I’m going anyway.”

I’m not prepared for how quickly he flies across the room, tackling me onto the bed as he punches my face. Blood spurts from my nose and my head twists to the left as stars burst in front of my eyes. His large hands wrap around my throat and squeeze tightly, cutting off my air. I fumble around for his fingers, trying to pull them away. But it’s a weak effort on my part.

 

For the first time in my miserable life, I wish for death. I welcome it. Embrace it. My hands drop away as my eyes close and my chest burns from lack of oxygen. But I’m not afraid, I see my momma and daddy waiting for me beyond the pain.

I’m snapped back to reality as Troy makes a noise of disgust and shoves his hands away from my throat. The pain rushes forward and I cough violently as my deprived lungs suck in great mouthfuls of air. My vision slowly comes back into focus, and tears prick the corners of my eyes as the image of my parents fades away. Troy climbs off me and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. I hear his bike start up and tear down the road, but I still can’t bring myself to move from the bed. Why didn’t he just let me die? Does he really hate me that much that he’d force me to live? A brief image flashes in my mind of the bottle of sleeping pills in the bathroom . . . but deep down I know I could never take my own life.

I slowly sit up, the burning in my chest is almost gone, but a heaviness remains as I look at my suitcase still by the bedroom door.

 

Two hours later I’m on a bus, using money from the secret savings account I’ve been squirreling away for the past two years to get home.

As the bus leaves the city behind, and I get my first glimpse of the beautiful Texan countryside I haven’t seen in so many years, a small bubble of laughter works its way up from my belly. A moment later tears are coursing down my cheeks as I shriek with laughter. The other people on the bus look at me as if I’ve fucking lost my mind, and maybe I have. But right now I don’t care.

I’m free. I’m fucking free.

“Shannon,” Keets panicked voice calls out, rousing me from my daydream. I glance up at him, embarrassed at having been caught not focusing on my job. “What’s up?” I ask, smoothing my hair down with my hand.

“It’s Stone,” he says grimly, his mouth set in a tight line as he pushes his glasses up on his nose with a lone index finger. My blood runs cold as a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

“You need to see this.”

 

My hand shakes as I lift the glass to my lips, draining the last few drops of beer left behind by a customer. I’m hiding out the back of Saddles, numerous bottles and glasses around me. I’m disgusted with myself, but I can’t fucking stop. If only Shannon hadn’t thrown away my beer, I wouldn’t be reduced to draining the dregs from paying customers. I got lucky earlier, one group of customers left pretty quickly, not bothering to finish their drinks. I had about eight full glasses of whiskey that has left me with a nice buzz. So why aren’t I happy?

Fucking Shannon. I’m fucking beyond furious. How dare she throw away my beer? It’s the only thing getting me through every damn day, what does she expect me to do now?

As though my thoughts have magically conjured her up, the back door of the bar opens and she steps out, squinting at the sudden brightness of the sun as it hits her in the eye. Raising a hand across her eyes to block it out, she spots me sitting against the wall and regards me with a thin purse of her lips.

I grimace as Keets appears over her shoulder; no second guesses are necessary to know who sold me out.

“Thanks a lot, man,” I slur, nodding at Keets as I raise a glass toward them. “Nice to know you’ve got my back.”

“I do have your back,” Keets protests, starting to step forward, but Shannon’s small hand on his chest stops him mid-stride. I growl under my breath when she doesn’t immediately move her hand, a keen jealousy building in me, making my chest heavy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Shannon snaps, glaring at me as I blink in surprise. Why the hell is she angry at me? She’s the one who threw out the beer and reduced me to this.

“I’m waiting to die,” I answer, a little disturbed at how easily the statement slips off my tongue.

“It can’t be that bad,” Keets says with a small laugh. I shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. Now’s not the time for his fucking jokes.

“Stone, I think you need to go home,” Shannon says gently, her earlier anger seems to have dissipated as she moves to kneel beside me in the gutter. Shame washes over me as I realize the gravity of the situation. I’m lying in the fucking gutter, drinking the last dregs of alcohol from someone else’s glass. When did I become so dependent on booze that I would stoop to this level? An unsettling feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, and before I can stop myself I’m leaning forward, losing the contents of my guts onto the cement. As I’m heaving, I feel her gentle hand on my back and I’m instantly embarrassed. She’s not to blame for my problems . . . I am.

I need help, how the fuck do I get over an addiction that’s completely consumed me? Am I even worth saving? I’ve done some pretty shitty things in my life, but is it possible that Shannon sees past my imperfections? My whole body is shaking beneath her touch. I’m so vulnerable, so weak . . . so human. Tears burn behind my eyes, nothing will hold them back now. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as the first tear caresses my cheek, and soon my body is wracked with deep, shuddering sobs. I hate that I’m helpless. I’m the strong soldier, yet here I am crying like a bitch.

Shannon’s arms wrap around my neck and I cling to her like a buoy in the ocean. She can save me . . . she has to. “Save me,” I whisper brokenly against her soft hair. The tears begin to ebb and fade as she pushes back gently to look at my face. She cups it with a small smile, “of course,” she whispers, stroking my cheek with her thumb. “We’ll help you.”

We . . . I’d almost forgotten about Keets. I glance up at him, embarrassed, as I wipe away the last of my tears.

“It’s okay,” he says gruffly as he crouches down beside us and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get you through this.”

I have no idea how they think they’re going to get me through this. I’ve reached rock bottom, how can I begin to climb back up and out of this hole I dug? I want to tell her to leave while she can, I’m so close to telling her all about the young girl that haunts my nightmares. But I don’t. I can’t.

“He can’t stay here,” Keets murmurs to Shannon, who nods her head quietly.

“I know,” she whispers. “You need to help me get him home.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, indicating with his head toward me. “Addiction is a horrible thing to overcome, he’s going to be an asshole for a while.”

“Is that really any different than usual?” she grins.

“Hey,” I interject. “I’m still fucking here!”

“Oh come on,” Keets says with a laugh. “You know I’m just kidding.”  He turns back to Shannon and wraps his arms around her as she sits in the wheelchair, kissing the top of her head. Jealously floods through me and I growl as I narrow my eyes at them both. She’s fucking mine! My mind screams, and I clench my hands into fists as I force myself to calm down. She’s not yours, I remind myself sternly. I’m too fucked up to get involved with any woman . . . no matter how much I want to.

Shannon has proven to me today that I can trust her, it would be unfair of me to bring her down with my history. And Keets . . . the man is my Army brother. I trust no man more than him. If anyone can help me conquer my inner demons, it’s these two people beside me.

For the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of hope that things will be okay.

 

It’s been a week since Stone has had a beer, and I honestly don’t know how he’s coping.

He’s been so quiet, often hiding out in his bedroom while I’ve slept in the spare room. I hear him crying at night and it breaks my heart, but I know he just needs time. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s been through, but I know it’s going to be a long time before he feels truly okay.

“Hey, Shan,” Ruth says, walking up to me at the bar with a tray of dirty glasses. “How’s Stone?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, taking the tray and unloading the glasses. “He’s barely said a word to me all week.”

“Just give it some time,” she offers, smiling at a young couple as they take a seat at the bar. “I’m sure he’s got a lot of crap to work through.”

I push my wheelchair across to the couple and quickly serve them their drinks.

“How’s Zeke?” I ask when we get another spare minute.

Ruth sighs. “He’s still not talking,” she says.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she starts, laying a hand lightly on my shoulder. “It’s my pleasure. He’s a good kid, but he’s been through so much with his mom . . .”

“And now his dad,” I finish the sentence for her.

Ruth smiles, but it seems a little forced. “It’ll be okay,” she tells me, glancing up as the door of the bar opens. “Great,” she mutters, quickly moving away. “I’ll leave this one to you.”

“What?” I ask, watching as she darts away.

I sigh in frustration and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, wishing for the hundredth time tonight that I’d worn it up. It’s Saturday night, and the band is just setting up as the regulars trickle in. Unfortunately for me, some of those regulars aren’t all that friendly.

“Effie,” I say emotionlessly, nodding a greeting to Kensington as they take a seat at the bar.

“Shannon,” Effie purrs, looking at my wheelchair. “I heard about your leg. That’s just terrible. I do hope it’s nothing serious.”

I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly. “No, Effie, my injured leg is nothing serious.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it,” she says, completely missing my sarcasm. “You remember Mr. Kensington?”

“Of course,” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Miss Harper,” he says with a fake smile. “I hope you’ve considered my offer?”

“Uh, I’m still thinking about it,” I tell him, desperately looking around for Ruth. “Will you excuse me?” I don’t wait for an answer as I wheel my chair over to where Ruth appears to be flirting with a young guy. I’m a little surprised; I thought for sure things were working out with Keets.

“Ruth?” I say, calling her attention to me. “I have to get out of here.”

She nods understandingly. “Okay. Go into the office and wait. I’ll call Keets to pick you up and take you back to Stone’s.”

“Thanks.” I smile gratefully as I turn the wheelchair around and head for the office, pointedly ignoring Effie and Kensington.

As I wait inside the office for Keets, I can’t get my mind off Stone. I’ve seen him just once since I poured his beer down the sink. I have no idea how he’s doing, but Dr. James and everyone else keep telling me to give him time. He’s been through so much, and it’s important to let the alcohol get out of his system and give him time to adjust. Kind of like a period of quarantine.

I know he hasn’t eaten. I’ve left meals outside his door every night, and every morning they’ve been untouched. No one can go that long without eating and still be okay, can they? Where the hell is Keets? I need to get home. I need to check on Stone.

I sit up straight, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping open slightly. What the hell are you doing, Shannon? It’s not ‘home’. You’re there until your leg gets better, no longer, my brain practically screams at me. A short, stabbing pain enters my chest at the thought of leaving Stone’s house. When did I start caring so much? He’s a friend, and I don’t want anything more. But even as I think that, I know it’s not true. Somehow, Stone has worked his way into my head, my heart. This goes beyond wanting to help him. I want to be a part of his life.

The main part.

The office door opens and I look up, giving Keets a smile as he enters. “Hey, buttercup,” he says fondly, using the nickname my daddy used to call me. Tears spring to my eyes and he sees them before I can dash them away.

“Ah, hell,” he curses, dropping to his knees and enfolding me in his large arms. I hold on to his shirt and let the tears flow. It’s such a relief after holding everything together for so long. Keets is strong, dependable, my best friend. He’s been there for me through the darkest moments, and I’m so thankful he’s here now. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking my back as he places a soft kiss against my hair.

I sit back, exhausted, and wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I tell him on a choked laugh as I look at the large wet stain on his white tank top.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, fixing me with a hard stare. His hand gently wipes away the remainder of my tears, letting me know he’s not angry. “Don’t ever apologize Shan. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, do you understand?”

I swallow hard and nod in agreement.

“Good,” he answers, standing up and moving to the back of the wheelchair.

I keep my head down as he maneuvers me through the main bar area, hiding my tear-stained face from curious onlookers. He pauses for a moment and speaks to Ruth, but I don’t intrude by listening in. I just want to leave. When we finally get outside, Keets helps me to settle in the back seat of his truck with my injured leg propped up before folding up the wheelchair and placing it in the back seat.

I’m silent for the whole trip, and so is Keets. I think he understands that I’m deep in thought, that I just need time to process everything that’s happening as well as these new feelings that are emerging.

There’s no question that Stone needs help, but am I the right person for the job? I’m not an expert, but I don’t think Stone helping out at the bar was the right decision. I need to stop him from being at Saddles altogether. It’s going to be difficult, but I’m sure Ruth and Keets can handle things until I get back on my feet. It’s the right thing to do, for Stone.

When we pull up outside his house, all the lights are out. I wonder if he’s eaten anything yet.

Keets grabs the wheelchair from the back of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side, opening the back door and lifting me into his arms. But instead of putting me into the wheelchair like I expect, he starts carrying me up to the front door. “Keets.” I laugh. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just making sure you get inside safely.” He grins. “You got the key?” I move one hand from around his neck and fumble in the pocket of my shorts, holding the key up. He takes it from me and puts it in the lock, opening the door. I can’t see a thing and as we enter, my head hits the doorframe.

“Ow!” I cry, holding a hand to my head as I laugh. “You bastard.”

“Sorry,” Keets grunts as his legs hit something and he curses loudly. I giggle and shush him, not wanting to disturb Stone. The living room light comes on, and I blink at the sudden brightness.

I glance up and my heart sinks. Stone is standing in the doorway of his bedroom, casually leaning against the doorframe. His face, however, is anything but calm. “Having fun, are we?” he asks.

“Stone,” I say, suddenly keenly aware of still being in Keets’ arms. He senses my discomfort and deposits me carefully onto the couch. I can’t take my eyes off Stone. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. There are dark circles under his eyes and a five-day growth on his jawline. He’s clearly just showered, as water is still dripping down his torso, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. He’s lost weight, his jeans hanging too low on his narrow hips. My heart breaks at the lost look in his eyes. He seems haunted, destroyed.

“Hey, man,” Keets greets, walking over and slapping him on the back. “How are you doing?”

Stone says nothing. He just stands there . . . staring at me.

Keets clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets, jangling the keys to his truck. “I, ah, guess I’ll leave you two alone,” he says, walking far too quickly back over to the door.

I don’t watch him leave, don’t hear his truck start up and pull away from the house. My eyes are focused only on the broken man in front of me. “How are you feeling?” I ask, clearing my throat as I struggle to sit up. My eyes widen as he slowly begins walking toward me. “I know you haven’t eaten much the last few days.” I’m rambling. “But Dr. James said—”

“What’s going on between you and Keets?” Stone interrupts, his voice low and kind of menacing.

My eyes widen even further. Is he serious?

“Stone,” I start, holding up a hand. “Keets is a friend, and—”

“Oh, I can see what a great friend he is,” Stone says sarcastically. “Does Ruth know?”

“Know what?” I gasp, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “Stone, what are you talking about?” Surely he can’t believe there’s anything romantic between myself and Keets.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he counters, finally reaching my side. I recoil into the couch as he leans over me, his breath hot and heavy.

Fury builds inside of me at his words. Just who the hell does he think he is? I tilt my head up and jut out my chin, my eyes cold as steel even as I lie beneath him on the couch. “So what if there is something going on?” I seethe in my coldest voice. “It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he growls. I yelp as his arm slides beneath my legs and he effortlessly picks me up. “Stop it!” I yell, slapping his arm uselessly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m making you forget Keets exists,” he tells me, walking into his bedroom and dumping me gently on the bed.

“You’re what?” I ask, trying to scramble up the bed, but he grabs my uninjured leg and drags me back down before moving over me. I’m unable to suppress the shiver that passes through me the moment his lips touch the side of my neck.

“I said,” Stone draws out. “I’m making you forget Keets ever touched this beautiful skin. You’re so fucking beautiful, Shannon. Do you even know how gorgeous you are?” He punctuates each word with another kiss to my bare skin.

“No,” I gasp, no longer trying to free myself. His kisses are setting my skin on fire, and all I want to do is burn. His hand slides up my ribcage, brushing the underside of my breast. I strain against his hand, trying to move it where I need it.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the outer corner of my lips. “Take it easy, babe. We’ve got all night.” His fingertips touch the tight bud of my nipple and I cry out against his lips. This, I think to myself. This is what I’ve been needing. His fingers twist, knead, and pluck at my nipple until I’m writhing beneath him. I need more.

Stone seems to know just what I need, and his hand moves from my breast long enough to pull my tank top up and my bra cup down, pushing my breast up to his hooded gaze. My dusky pink nipple stands proudly to attention, begging for more.

And more is exactly what he gives me.