Page 106 of Escaping Our Reality

I snort. “That’ll be the second door on the right, sir.” I grab a candle from the counter, lighting it. I’m glad Ry had us gather them all yesterday after the storm. “Here, use this. You don’t wanna kill your cell phone battery. It may still be a day or two before we get power.”

He winks. “Good thing I’m with the only person I care to talk to.”

He opens the back door and heads down the marble breezeway, searching for the guest bathroom. I holler after him, “I’ll be sure to tell Harlan about that.”

Twenty-two minutes. Twenty-two glorious minutes.

That’s how long the water stayed hot. I shampooed my hair twice, I shaved every part of my body known to mankind, and I used a half a bottle of shower gel. I’ve never felt so clean in my life. What a difference twenty-two minutes can make.

I grab one of my sleep shirts from Ry. He onlygaveme one shirt. I commandeered three more. All Harlan Garage andAutomotive T-shirts. I love them. The material is so soft it’s like satin. Slipping it over my head and stepping into a fresh pair of panties, I open my bathroom door and smile when I see my bedroom. Ry must’ve finished before me. Seven different candles cascade dancing light across my bedroom.

I tiptoe down the hallway and stop when I see him in the kitchen. He’s lit every single candle. The others are scattered across the kitchen and living room, lighting the space like a fairy garden in the summer. He’s standing there, making sandwiches in his boxer briefs. Correction: in Holt’s boxer briefs. Besides the T-shirts I sleep in, Ry didn’t have any extra clothes here. Everything is in his truck. Before we left, he borrowed some more clothes from Holt, including boxer briefs this time. They’re tighter across his crotch than his own boxer briefs.

Immediately, my mouth waters.

My eyes trail up the muscled V of his pelvis, to the firm lines of his muscled stomach. The tight lines of his pectorals flex when he reaches for the peanut butter. I engross myself in the strong build of his shoulders. His facial scruff is three shades darker than his hair. Sexy, dark, and mysterious. A stubborn water droplet falls from above his ear and travels down the thick cord of his neck. Even from across the room, the candlelight reflects against his eyes, turning the pale green shades of black and white.

I can’t breathe. I can’t function. I can’t live one more second on this earth without knowing the feeling of him being inside of me. Being a part of me. I love him. And he loves me.

We haven’t even talked about what he said before the tornado came roaring through our lives.

You’re the love of my fucking life.

Well, right back at ya.

He doesn’t even glance up when he notices my presence. “Your bananas were about to go bad. I’m making peanut butterand banana sandwiches. I know you’re probably tired of peanut butter already. I promise when things are back to normal, I’ll buy you a four-foot-long Philly cheesesteak.”

When I don’t laugh or respond, he glances over at me. “Lulu? Are you okay?” He sucks peanut butter from his thumb.

Wordlessly, I pull the shirt over my head and toss it over on the loveseat. The butter knife falls from his hand, clattering against the countertop. He loves my breasts. I know he does. He can’t help it, but his cheeks turn pink every time he looks at my naked chest. It’s so darn cute.

Grabbing the waistband of my panties, I slowly lower them to the ground. Stepping out of them, I kick them away. They crumple underneath the side table. From here, I watch as his erection grows, straining against the thin fabric of his underwear.

I’m really nervous. But I’m completely calm.

I’m really self-conscious. But I’m completely confident.

I’m really trapped. But I’m completely free.

He makes me everything. Everything all at once.

But what he really makes me iswet. Soaking wet. And ready to be loved.

His whisper is raspy and low. “Lulu.”

“Yesterday was an emotional day.”

He nods, staring at my naked body, like I’m the first girl he’s ever seen. And we both know that’s not true. “Yeah.”

I suck in a breath, stiffening my spine. “Do you say things you don’t really mean when you’re emotional?”

His eyes dilate, and he slowly comes around the kitchen counter, lazily leaning against it, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like his massive hard-on isn’t bobbing up against his stomach like some sort of porno Heimlich maneuver. “No.”

My heart stops beating. My nipples grow so hard, they become painful. “Oh.”

He bites his bottom lip, driving me to the brink of hysterical lunacy. “Go ahead and ask me. I know you want to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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