Deep River Promise Jackie Ashenden (best life changing books .txt) 📖

feeling coming from? He wasn’t her boyfriend and she wasn’t in love with him. He was a handsome guy she’d known all of two days, whom she had amazing chemistry with. They’d had sex on the desk and it had been wonderful, and now it was over. The end.

She grabbed a pen and a sticky note, wrote down Phil’s address, then stuck the note to the book on top of the pile. “That’s Phil’s address. It’s half an hour’s walk up the hill.” She straightened, smoothed her hair again. “Well, I have some things to do so I better—”

His fingers caught her chin in a gentle but firm grip, turning her face toward him. “Astrid.”

But she didn’t want to know what he had to say. The ache in her chest was getting stronger and she had to get away from him, go and do something else, distract herself. Because the temptation to hold on to his shirt and beg him for more was rising and she couldn’t stop it.

There are always consequences when you give in to what you want.

Oh yes, and didn’t she know it? Her entire life was a monument to that little fact.

She pulled herself out of his grip, fighting to ignore the warmth left lingering on her skin from his fingertips. “Sorry,” she said, though what she was apologizing for she had no idea. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. Better get on with it.”

Her heart kicked in her chest as she turned toward the exit. But again, she ignored it.

He didn’t speak again as she went to the door and unlocked it.

And when she walked out, he didn’t stop her.

Chapter 10

Damon sat at one of the tables in the Moose, a stack of papers in front of him, a cold beer beside him, and his concentration shot all to hell.

He was supposed to be working out which of the Deep River tourism proposals were the most financially sound, and yet all he could think about was Astrid.

Her in his arms, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gone brilliant. She’d smiled at him as he’d pushed inside her, delight written all over her lovely face. And amazement too, the same amazement he’d felt unfurl inside himself. At the feeling between them, the pleasure and the intense sense of connection.

There had been magic in the moment they’d shared and he could feel that magic still echoing through him. And it haunted him.

He wasn’t sure why. Sex had always been easy come, easy go, and he’d been very deliberate about keeping it like that. Physical pleasure was the one intense feeling he allowed himself—as long as it didn’t stray into the realm of emotional. So far, that hadn’t been a problem. Then again, he’d always chosen partners who hadn’t wanted anything from him but sex.

Astrid was different. Sure, she’d said she just wanted sex, but he’d seen the need in her eyes as he’d touched her. As he’d pushed inside her. Joy and wonder too. She’d looked at him as if she’d never seen anything like him in her entire life, and he’d felt himself respond.

He’d liked that. He’d liked that far too much.

You want it again.

The idea sat inside him and he let it for a second, examining it, because he tried to be honest with himself where he could. And he could admit that yes, he wanted it again. Wanted to touch her, hold her again. Be inside her again. Have that smile of hers again…

Damon grabbed the beer and took a sip, staring moodily at the wall next to him and the stuffed head of a brown bear that was stuck to it. The bear’s glass eyes were deeply judgmental.

He glared at it.

No, he couldn’t have any of those things again. That would be a mistake. Indulging himself in the first place had been a mistake. And perhaps she’d felt the same, because she’d walked out of the library very quickly afterward. He’d known something was wrong, but it was obvious she hadn’t wanted to talk about it and so he’d let her go. No point in making the situation worse.

After she’d gone, he’d gathered up the books and taken them to Phil, the old guy who lived at the top of the hill behind the town. Phil had given him a look around his fledgling animal sanctuary and explained what he was trying to do. An interesting little operation, and given the quirk factor of Phil himself, it had definite tourist potential.

Of course, it would have been better if he’d paid attention to the old guy, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. His head had been too full of Astrid.

The beer was cold on his tongue, the buzz of conversation in the bar around him loud. It was Saturday night and clearly the Moose was the place to be, packed as it was with town residents all talking and shouting and drinking.

Some idiot had put on Sweet Home Alabama on the jukebox for the third time that evening, the twangy sounds of the guitar competing with the click of pool balls and the sounds of loud laughter.

Damon found the noise irritating.

He’d been dead set on leaving tomorrow and he had no reason to change his mind, especially not after his mom’s call earlier today. Two days and then he had to get back to her, that had been the plan. So why he should be feeling so unsettled and like he was making the wrong decision somehow, he had no idea.

Sex with a woman—even good sex—was not a reason to stay. He had to get back to LA. He couldn’t keep relying on Rachel, especially not when his mother was uncomfortable with her being around; that wasn’t fair.

What about your promise to Cal?

Well, what about it? He’d spoken to Connor, let the kid know he was around and available. Maybe he’d come and see him, maybe he wouldn’t. Two days, that’s what he’d told Connor. The kid knew where to find him if