The Reality of Everything Flight & Glory Read online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Angst, Chick Lit, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
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I scoffed and narrowed my eyes. Didn’t he realize kidnapping was illegal?

“I’m leaving on a trip in five hours, and as far as I’m concerned, I still have a girlfriend. And in case you’re missing the point, that girlfriend is you.” He grinned, and my body temp rose. Damn it. “You think I’m leaving on this trip and I’m not going to come back.”

I swallowed and shoved the panic as far away as I could.

“So you think that if you don’t love me—if we’re not together while I’m on this trip—you’ll save yourself the heartache of that possible future.”

Bull’s-eye.

“And I understand that, too. If you want to shove that love you don’t feel for me into a little box and file it away in your emotional basement so you can survive these next three months, then be my guest. It’s not like I get a say anyway, right?” His words were at odds with the smirk he wore. “So fine, file me away, Kitty. Live your life. Start your new job. Finish up your therapy and heal. But just like I can’t make you stay with me, you can’t stop me from loving you.”

The man was insane. Maybe he was the one who needed therapy if he couldn’t see that I was rejecting him. Are you, though? Nice necklace.

“So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to love you so hard that three months will be a pencil dot on our timeline.”

Mercy.

“I’m going to love you so well that you’ll never doubt that I choose you. Every day. Every situation. I choose you.”

I melted. I’d waited a lifetime for those very words.

“I’m choosing you today by telling you that your well-being is more important than my ego or my need for reassurance. I’ll choose you every single day that I’m gone, every mission that I fly, every second that I breathe. You don’t have to be with me. I’ll be with you.”

I swallowed. “And what if I start seeing someone else?” Not that I was going to. Jackson was it for me. That’s what made this whole thing so fucking impossible.

“Five. Minutes.” He pointed to the minute remaining on the clock, and the pulse leaped in his neck. His knuckles whitened, and his jaw ticked twice. “If you want to see someone else, then I guess that’s your prerogative, seeing as you’re single.”

Well, that hadn’t been the response I’d expected. Did that mean he—

“As for me, I have a girlfriend I love more than life, so the only action I’ll be getting is this hand”—he raised his right—“fueled by your picture and enough memories of making love to you to last way longer than three months. You don’t have to be mine. I’m yours.”

My lips parted and my thighs buzzed. Stupid sex drive.

“And you’d better tell whatever guy you date to be prepared for a fight, because the minute I get off that plane, I’m coming straight for you. When I tell you that I’m coming home, I mean it. And, Morgan, you. Are. My. Home.” His eyes churned with longing and resolve.

Fuck my life, he was breaking down my own resolve.

He glanced at the clock. Ten seconds. His eyes raked over me like he was memorizing every detail of my face and body. I couldn’t help but do the same to him. This was it. He was leaving.

“I choose you. And if I have to let you lose me so you can save yourself, then I’ll hold on enough for the both of us. That’s how much I love you.”

Time was up.

He gave me one last, longing look and walked toward the door. My heartbeat matched the rhythm of his steps. What if this was really it? The last time I saw him? What if I never had the chance to hold him again? To see the light in his eyes when he smiled or the way his lips formed the words I love you? What if this was the last…everything?

My soul screamed in protest and ripped her claws into whatever was left of my defenses.

“Jackson!” I cried out as his hand reached the doorknob.

He turned, and everything I felt was so clearly etched on his own face that I whimpered.

“Kiss me.”

He jolted forward but froze when I lifted a finger.

“This doesn’t change anything. We are not together. And I know that makes this a really selfish, really screwed-up request. But…this trip…” I blocked out the D word and lifted my chin. “I want one last kiss.” My hand fell to my side.

“This isn’t our last kiss.” In four strides, his hands were in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

Home. Everything in my body sang at his touch. He felt so right under my fingertips as they laced behind his neck.

I opened under him, then moaned as his tongue curled around mine with swirling, deft strokes. He kissed me so thoroughly, so deeply, that I couldn’t remember why I’d ever stopped. Every time he moved to soften the kiss, to pull back or pause, I kissed him harder, pulled him closer. This couldn’t end. Not yet. Not while I felt alive and whole.


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