𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐀 · "𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞."
After losing her job and being left at the altar, Dr. Fiona Page is left to pick up the pieces of a "picture perfect" lif...
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CW: Soft morning smut, dirty talk, hand necklaces, edging, a dash of degradation kink, discussions of grief and processing grief, discussions of infidelity.
If you've read my book, Babydoll (it's not on Wattpad, you can get it on Kindle Unlimited or print, the link is in my bio), there's a little surprise in here. It's super dorky, but I had a lot of fun writing it. It's the TCU, baby!
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"Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." - Jonathan Safran Foer, "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"
JAMES
January 16, 2023
"I'm stuck," she laughed.
It was tight and controlled, like she was afraid to really laugh around him. He'd get it in fragments, but every time he heard it slip out, he cherished the sound and committed it to memory so that he could think about it when she wasn't there.
When her hand slipped into his and he pulled her up off of the ground where they once lay, he felt like he was getting somewhere with her.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"No problem."
He grabbed his phone, using it as a flashlight to help them both get dressed as he rested it on a bale of hay. It lit up part of the maze that wasn't supposed to be illuminated and James couldn't help himself as he watched Fiona straighten out her dress and smooth it out. She looked so beautiful. Soft and sweet, but with a bit of an edge to her despite the Peter Pan collar and the flush in her cheeks. She looked like she could tear him apart.
He wanted to ask her more about her little fantasy, but she looked contemplative as she straightened her sleeves and pushed her hair away from her face. James couldn't help but want to be near her, to hold her and run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to trace the freckles on the side of her neck with the tip of his finger. He wanted to kiss every single freckle, stretch mark and divot on her body.
Most of the time, after sex, he wanted to be alone. The euphoria and the lust would give way to the wound that was rotting away in the middle of his chest. Loneliness would fill it like thick, black tar that oozed into his bones and contaminated every part of him that was still alive, still hoping that things would get better. And then he wanted to run. James had always been one to listen to his instincts.
But something was happening tonight. He didn't want to go anywhere.
"That was fun," he mumbled as he zipped up his jeans, eyeing her as a small smile spread across his face.
