Finding You

Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Foreword Chapter One - Chloe Chapter Two - Gavin Chapter Three - Chloe Chapter Four - Chloe Chapter Five - Chloe Chapter Six - Gavin Chapter Seven - Chloe Chapter Eight - Gavin Chapter Nine - Chloe Chapter Ten - Chloe Chapter Eleven - Chloe Chapter Twelve - Gavin Chapter Thirteen - Chloe Chapter Fourteen - Chloe Chapter Fifteen - Gavin Chapter Sixteen - Chloe Chapter Seventeen - Gavin Chapter Eighteen - Gavin Chapter Nineteen - Chloe Chapter Twenty - Gavin Chapter Twenty-One - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Two - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Three - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Four - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Five - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Six - Gavin Chapter Twenty-Seven - Chloe Chapter Twenty-Eight - Gavin Chapter Twenty-Nine - Chloe Chapter Thirty - Chloe Chapter Thirty-One - Gavin Chapter Thirty-Two - Gavin Chapter Thirty-Three - Chloe Chapter Thirty-Four - Chloe Chapter Thirty-Five - Chloe Chapter Thirty-Six - Gavin Chapter Thirty-Seven - Chloe Chapter Thirty-Eight - Chloe Chapter Thirty-Nine - Gavin Chapter Forty - Chloe Chapter Forty-One - Chloe Chapter Forty-Two - Chloe Chapter Forty-Three - Gavin Chapter Forty-Four - Chloe Chapter Forty-Three - Gavin Chapter Forty-Six - Chloe Chapter Forty-Seven - Gavin Chapter Forty-Eight - Chloe Chapter Forty-Nine - Chloe Chapter Fifty - Chloe Chapter Fifty- One - Chloe Chapter Fifty-Two - Chloe Chapter Fifty-Three - Chloe Epilogue - Gavin Acknowledgments Other Works by Jack Whitney About The Author Guide Contents Start of Content Finding You Jack Whitney Copyright © 2023 Jack Whitney Cover Artist: Emily Wittig Editor: Lunar Rose Editing Services @lunar.rose.services Interior Design: Jack Whitney (Images via Creative Market) All rights reserved. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are the product and depiction of the author's wild imagination, and are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is purely coincidental. This one is for every person who “didn’t make the coffee.” And for all my Chloe’s out there. May you be seen, heard, and then railed backward over the office desk while wearing a blindfold and getting called a ‘good girl.’ Cheers, bitches. FOREWORD While it is not required, it is HIGHLY recommended that you read the short novella, Sweet Girl, before starting this novel. There are some issues within this novel to be aware of, including some of Chloe’s past that she briefly refers to in Sweet Girl. Here is a list of possible triggers to be aware of within these pages: Depictions of physical abuse (dreams), and stories of sexual assault, manipulation, and domestic violence. Explicit sex scenes including temperature (wax) play, blindfolding, spanking, and praise. No acts in this book are in any way meant as a guide to exploring sexual fantasies or to give suggestions. Do not try these acts at home as they are depicted here. Instead, please do your own research if you are curious about the world of BDSM. It is important to learn how to perform these activities safely with your partner. There are a lot of resources out there. Please be safe, and remember aftercare. CHAPTER ONE - CHLOE THE QUAD-SHOT espresso with oat milk in my hand was not enough coffee to start the day. It had begun with nearly having an argument with my best friend, and then on the way to work, I’d tripped on three cracks in the sidewalk when my heels got caught, it rained on my walk from the parking garage, and I’d dropped my cell phone in a puddle that looked like it had a layer of oil floating on the top. Not to mention I’d barely been able to sleep due to the weird dreams I’d been having. I kept seeing a hill, golden wings, and feeling shadowed hands touching me. No face, just the shadow. What was most bewildering, though, was the feeling I woke up with every time—butterflies in my stomach, heated cheeks, restlessness in my muscles, an aching heart… “I think I’m dying,” I told my best friend, Lana, on our video chat that morning. Since moving across the country last year, video calls have become our daily ritual. I missed her more than I could express. There was something about Lana that lit up an entire room and made everyone around her feel comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that she was a therapist, or maybe it was just Lana’s presence. But I could tell her everything, and she could read me like a book. “That medical site says I’m dying,” I continued. “You can’t trust those sites, babe,” Lana said, crossing her legs and leaning her elbow onto the countertop. Her black cat jumped on the barstool beside her, and she pulled the feline into her lap. “You put in a stuffy nose and it comes back with nasal tumors. How did you say you felt again?” “Hi, Salem,” I cooed to the beautiful little cat. “She’s getting big.” “Stop stalling,” Lana said. “Let’s hear it. How did you feel?” I twisted the bread bag and wrapped the tie around it before throwing two pieces into the toaster. “Racing—no, aching heart. Weak knees. Like… adrenaline? Dopamine? Almost giddy, as if you’ve had a glass of red wine—“ “I’d like to know what kind of red wine you’re drinking,” Lana muttered behind the cup of tea at her lips. I pursed my lips at her, and she chuckled, her spiraled curls falling out of the colorful headband she had wrapped around her head. “Right. Go on. What else?” “Ah… Warm. My stomach was fluttering almost—” “Are you sure you didn’t eat anything odd?” Lana asked. “I’ve had this same dream for a week now. Countless times in the past. I don’t think it has anything to do with my eating habits,” I replied. “I