Slow Dance at Rose Bend Naima Simone (best ebook reader under 100 .txt) š
- Author: Naima Simone
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āBoyfriend?ā Anger speared him, dagger sharp. And fear. Fear that heād just found her, and she belonged to someone else.
So what?
And in the blink of an eye, he was that man he despised. The man who would encroach on someone elseās woman. He hated what that said about him, what that made him. But then he stared at the delicate yet proud profile of the woman before him, and he didnāt give a damn.
She was his. Heād known her less than twenty-four hours, and everything in him roared this truth. She was his and he was hers.
āEx-boyfriend,ā she corrected, and calmed the possessive beast he hadnāt known resided within him. āAnyway, being on the road a lot, I didnāt make time for regular doctor visits. But at the beginning of the year, I did. And I was there for almost five hours because my doctor was about to admit me to the hospital. My blood pressure was so high, if I hadnāt come in, he believed I wouldāve had a stroke within the next few days.ā
āJesus,ā Maddox rasped.
āYes.ā She nodded, tipping her head back and chuckling, although it carried a hard edge to it. āIām young, live a good life, turned my passion into a career and am damn successful at it. High blood pressure, stroke, possible kidney disease and liver failureāthat happens to my grandmother, not me.ā She shook her head. āFor a long while, I was angry at my body for betraying me. But then I had to admit that the tiredness, headaches, dizziness and occasional shortness of breath hadnāt been due to stress and constant traveling. That itād been me eating quick and easy foods at shows and exhibitions with little to no exercise. I had to stop beating myself up and instead forgive myself for neglecting me. With that came a determination to take control in all areas of my life.ā
She bent her head and rubbed a finger over the ring finger of her left hand. The finger where an engagement ring wouldāve sat. An unprecedented spurt of jealousy blasted through him because sheād worn another manās ring first.
Shit. He was turning into a caveman.
āKenneth and I were together for two years. Itās been four months since I removed his ring, and one month since I stopped feeling guilty about it. They call high blood pressure the silent killer, and it definitely made me intimately aware of my mortality. So I had to change my diet, exercise regimen, lifestyle...and my partner.ā
āWas heāā he trapped the growl in his chest āāabusive?ā
āNo, well... God.ā She huffed out a breath and thrust a hand through her curls, bunching them in a fist. āA part of me hates saying yes. Because it makes me feel weak. Stupid for staying with him so long. When Iām neither.ā She blew out another gust of air and turned her head to look at him, her gaze unwavering but...sad. āYes. Never physically, but emotionally? Mentally? Yes. I was never good enough. I was selfish for traveling so much and not placing our relationship first. I was too big, and because I wouldnāt lose just fifteen pounds apparently his concerns, his needs didnāt matter to me.ā
She shoved to her feet, and he followed, but maintained his distance. Let her pace. Let her get this out as if she were lancing a wound and releasing the poison.
Intuition told him she didnāt do this often.
āIf I loved himāif I cared about usāI would put my business degree to use and work in a jewelry store instead of designing and selling my own. Make more money. Two years together and he didnāt get that creating my own work was like riding for me. Which, surprise, surprise, he hated, too.ā She barked out a laugh. āBoth are pure energy, a high. When Iām in my workshop or on a bike, Iām not caged in... Iām free. Whether Iām wrestling with getting the silver to mold just so or riding against the elements, the adrenaline is a rush. How could I give up either? But he didnāt understand. And what he didnāt understand, he resented.ā
She halted mid-pace and curled her arms around herself, standing near the rise of the hill, inches from where it dropped off. Her eyes closed, her rich brown skin gleaming in the sunās rays. His heart thudded against his rib cage, but he ordered himself to remain where he stood. This woman, who craved freedom, wouldnāt appreciate him trying to wrap her in wool.
āI started to realize that he didnāt...like me. Not the real me. He couldnāt if he wanted to change everything about me. But then, several months after my diagnosis, one morning I walked out of our closet into the bedroom, and he looked at me and said, āIām glad you got sick. At least now youāre losing weight.ā That was it for me. I couldnāt do the toxicity, the tearing down of my soul anymore. That day, I refused to give him any more of me. And I promised myself that I wouldnāt change anything about me for a manāfor anyoneāever again. So maybe Kenneth wasnāt too wrong. If not for me getting sick, if not for me going to the doctorās that day, I wouldnāt have woken up and decided to take better care of my health. Decided to get rid of everything and everyone that was poison to me.ā
āCherrie.ā Maddox flexed his fingers next to his thighs, desperate to touch her. āCan I hold you?ā He would beg her if necessary.
She shifted, considering him over her shoulder. āYes,ā she finally said. Then added, āPlease.ā
It was that āpleaseā that snapped his control. In three long strides, he was on her, dragging her into his arms. Holding her tight. Probably too tight, but easing his grip was beyond his ability at the moment, and she didnāt protest. No, she gripped him, her fists balled into his T-shirt. Every curve and dip aligned with his harder, larger planes and angles, and they fit.
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