Wanting Book Novels & Stories

Under my anger is misery. I want Dad back. I want our old life back, the one before he married this woman. But Dad is gone, and nobody knows why. With the crime rate being what it is, they made my father into another statistic, blaming drugs and what not. But I know better. We may have been poor, but Dad was a scholar. He loved books. He never touched alcohol, not even at his own wedding. And he abhorred drugs. To the point that even I don’t mess with them either.

She was having affair even though she knew how much I loved her. “Not now, Julie. I don't want to see anyone right now. Thank you very much, but you should go.” that was a lie, even a baby born today will be able to tell that I was lying. I didn't want to be alone because I swear, I might hurt myself if I was to be alone for another hours.

The thought of connecting with Emilia, of earning her trust or even just her tolerance, seemed impossible. But as I continued reading, taking notes despite myself, I realized I wanted to try. Not because it would enhance our business charade, not because it would persuade Ava to trust me more—though those were convenient justifications. But because something about that little girl's defiance, her fierce protectiveness of her mother, her stubborn belief in a father who wasn't coming back... it had gotten under my skin. She deserved better than to be collateral damage in our adult games. I closed the article and opened a new tab, searching for bookstores in Seattle that specialized in children

Some part of me wanted that. Not because I wanted the power. Not because I wanted to collect people like trophies. Because the thought of being wanted like that; to be chosen like that, made something in my chest go warm and tight. All because I had read... things. Books. Ones that I pretended they were "just entertainment." Stories that had made me squirm under blankets and bite my lip and tell myself I was being ridiculous. But the ones that had gotten me the most... the ones that lit my skin up and made my pulse race, were the ones where the woman wasn't lonely in love.

Listened to the territory breathe. Felt the full weight of what she wanted without managing it. Without filing it. Without making it useful. Just wanted it. Completely. For herself. For the first time in three years. And the wanting the simple, clean, personal wanting felt like the last thing that had been waiting finally arriving. Finally home.

I wanted to be the thing the walls had said was coming. The thing my mother had known I was. The thing the flame in the tower had been leaning toward for three hundred years. I wanted to be that — fully, completely, without apology for what it cost anyone who had decided it was more convenient for me to be nothing. The wanting arrived all at once and it was enormous and it frightened me with its size and I held it anyway. Drex was watching me.

That night I sit on my bed in the dark and I do something I have not done in three years. I open the door. Not a real door ..... the one inside me, the one I found and closed and locked and told myself I was protecting rather than punishing myself with. The one that leads to wanting. Not the careful, managed, practical kind of wanting that I have allowed myself ..... wanting safety for Eli, wanting stability, wanting the ordinary dignities of a life that is mine. The other kind. The kind that has no practical justification. The kind that arrives before you have finished deciding whether you can afford it.

He asked, leaning close. “I want you to Fuck me.”

Book name is: Every Thing I Ever Want Author: Diana Wolfe Link: https://www.goodnovel.com/book_info/31000110445/Romance/Everything-I-Ever-Want Another book is "Lilibeth's Lover" that is yet to be signed so before I can do that is if yall check it out and bookmark it I swear it's good and im putting so much love in it and I hope yall will feel that too. you can only check it in desktop mode which sucks but give your girl some support will ya? 😭. Take care, stay safe and enjoy the series. Tq Happy Reading you guys and take care:) Love, Diana

he murmured, not standing from the bed but not looking away either, “If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t stop pretending that this is nothing.” She did not look away. She did not move nor breathe. And in that moment—a burning, fragile moment—their desire stood naked between them, undeniable and dangerously close to breaking. Not touching. But wanting. God, wanting. And wanting, she realized, was far more powerful than she had ever expected.