Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
One would be incorrect.
First of all, I’m walking like I have a throw pillow wedged between my thighs. Every inch of me sensitive and chafed from Carver’s body hair. There are marks on my chest and neck that I don’t have a hope in hell of hiding, leading to some censorious looks from the visiting mothers…and some lecherous ones from the fathers. Being checked out by men used to make me uncomfortable, but now I only feel indifferent. I’m safe. Protected. My king is always watching and he wouldn’t let another man within two feet of me.
Case in point, the group of five male counselors who showed up for breakfast, bruised and wincing in pain with every step. None of them so much as looked at me, their heads remaining bowed, lips zipped. I couldn’t help but pat my pocket where I’d tucked Manny’s ponytail and say a quiet thank-you to Carver.
Now, as I speed walk from the mess hall to the outdoor talent show, my throat tightens up. Carver has given me the gift of…security. I’ve never had that before in my entire life and it’s so freeing. So wonderful. I’m not looking over my shoulder, thinking I’ll see my mother lurking. Or if the man to whom she sold me will show up and drag me home.
I suddenly miss Carver so much that my entire body aches. I’ve refused to stay with him, run away from him, allowed him to be attacked by an angry mob. Through all that, he’s remained steadfast and…obsessed with me. Which I don’t really mind, to be honest, because I’m pretty obsessed with him, too.
Slowing to a walk at the edge of the talent show, I rub the back of my hand over my lips, reveling in the memory of Carver attacking my mouth in the middle of the night. Mauling it while he dry-humped me in the twisted sheets, grunting and thrusting between my legs in a frenzy. In my head, I hear the sound of those same sheets ripping so he could get inside me, his stuttered groan when I took him deep.
My body is flushed from head to toe, my nipples in tight pebbles, and several nearby fathers take notice, receiving annoyed elbow jabs from their wives. I can barely acknowledge my surroundings, though, because I’m so hungry for my man. And that hunger lasts through the end of the talent show, never ebbing one iota…until we reach the picnic.
All morning, I’ve been running around so much, I failed to notice how everyone has broken up into families. Little clusters of hugging and laughter. All my favorite campers cling to their mothers, receiving proud back pats from their dads. From my position behind the condiments table, I watch as my fellow counselors hold hands with their significant others or exchange smiles with their parents. I’m the only one standing alone and I stick out like a sore thumb.
A dull throb begins in the middle of my chest. I need to get out of here. Maybe I’ll just go hide in the cabin for a while and wait until the picnic is over. Once the little groups of families begin to disperse, it won’t be quite so obvious that I’m the camp freak who has never been loved.
But that’s not true, is it?
What Carver gives me is definitely love. It’s real and messy and love. Isn’t it? Yes. And as I stand there feeling like an absolute outcast, I imagine how Carver feels the same thing, multiplied by a thousand. How could I refuse to stay with him? Heart in my throat, I turn in a circle and scan the woods, desperate to catch sight of him—
A giant body blocks my view.
“Hi,” says Carver in his gravelly baritone. “Am I late?”
Silence falls behind me in the picnic area, followed by alarmed voices. Shouts. Distressed cries from the children. I don’t care about anything but the man in front of me, though, who is clutching a fistful of daisies. My head falls back so I can look into his beautiful face and I gasp in delight, because I can see all of it. Every inch. His eyes, they’re weighed down with nerves, but not so much that I don’t see the affection there. For me. “Carver. You came?” I swallow a sob. “You’re here.”
He shifts in his size fifty boots. “I didn’t want you to be the only one without a visitor.” Clearing his throat, he hands me the daisies. “You should always have someone to sit with. As long as that person is me.”
A laugh trembles out past my lips. “I’m so glad you’re here. I-I’m so glad I found you at all. I’m…” I throw my arms around his waist and squeeze, his pleased rumbling dancing in my ear. “I love you, Carver.”