Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“Good. At least now you can rest assured the townsfolk won’t be bothering you.” A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Since they all think you’re mine . . .” On that, his eyes widen and the grin shifts to gaping-mouthed astonishment. “I mean, with me.”
I giggle because I can’t stop myself. Seeing a man this confident, someone who isn’t afraid to take on the whole damn world if it means protecting me, looking worried is just too adorable.
“Yours, huh?” I pretend not to hear the second part. After all, this is the second time he’s said I’m his in less than ten minutes. He tried his best to keep it under wraps the first time, speaking to the guy who grabbed my arm in menacing, hushed tones, but it wasn’t slipping past me that easily.
I guess it’s one of the reasons I flung myself into him. Knowing deep down he wants whatever this is, too.
Even if I am looking too deeply into it, at least it’s a distraction for now. A way to hide away from the real world in this little slice of drunken paradise.
He takes a moment to deliberate my words before answering, letting his smoky eyes wander up and down my body as a smile grows wider and wider across his face.
“When I see something I want, I take it,” he finally says. “Nothing’s stopped me before, and it won’t stop me with you.”
Oh God, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Heat creeps up my body and settles in my cheeks, and my gaze inadvertently drops to his feet to hide my blush. Judge doesn’t let me hide. He slots a finger under my chin and lifts my eyes back to his, looking deeply into them.
“That explains a lot.” I let my eyes wander down his arms and up his chest, a subtle attempt at prying about his tattoos.
But Judge has different plans. Instead of telling me more about his ink, he leans close, threatening to kiss me again. I let him keep control of the moment. Take it at his own pace. Tease me with his lips brushing against mine while his free hand wraps around my lower waist.
“Curiosity killed the cat, you know?” He says, and it should scare me.
Terrify me even. The only thing I know about this guy is that he has a good enough heart to help those who need it and isn’t afraid to put himself in harm’s way to make sure he gets it done. Those words could be as much a threat as playful banter. But I’m not scared of them, in fact, the opposite.
They excite me. Make me want to ask more questions and see just how far I can push him for the answers.
Judge has other plans, however. Before I can find the words to ask, he presses his lips against mine again. Soft to start, nothing more than a peck, but his carnal want takes control quickly . . . or maybe it’s mine. Bending his gentle action to one a bit more devious.
We start walking while making out. Passing the various empty rooms until we reach mine. Though walking backwards and blind, Judge never stumbles or trips, holding me tight against him with one hand while the other refuses to break from mine.
Stepping through the door, the noises from the barroom below become ambient sound. Muted murmuring from a crowd on the brink of deep intoxication and music blaring from a stereo system. It’s pleasant and welcoming, making me feel like I could stay around here a while longer than I should.
More likely than that, it’s the hulking slab of muscle bashing his tongue through my lips that makes me feel this way.
Once we’re alone, Judge kicks the door shut with his heel, refusing to release me even though he breaks our kiss.
“Tell me, Carrie,” he says, stern severity hanging on his words. “Why did you kiss me?”
The question knocks the wind from my sails. One second, our bodies are connected in ways I could never have imagined, and now we’re talking about how it happened. But a niggling in the back of my mind tells me that this right here, the way he stops to ask and doesn’t take anything for granted, is part of the reason. Questioning everything rather than blindly following. Wanting to find a reason where none exists.
“I don’t know.” Nerves stop me from expressing any real answer.
I could tell him it’s because he’s the big, scary monster that saved me twice in less than twelve hours. Or because I’m new to all this physical stuff, and it felt like an appropriate response to him whooping three guys in front of me. Hell, I could outright be honest and say it’s because he’s a hunk and I wanted to know what it felt like.