Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
And God help anyone who tried to take her from me.
Chapter 7
Honey
Istood in the doorway of Jack's bathroom, watching steam billow from the open tile shower as he stripped off his blood stained clothes. My own vest and jeans were spattered with dark brown dried blood. Twenty-four hours ago, that thought would have made me sick. Now I just felt numb, with a strange undercurrent of something like pride. I'd fought. I'd survived. I'd killed a man to protect what was becoming mine. As Jack's eyes met mine across the room, I recognized the same primal energy thrumming through his massive frame.
"You coming in?" he asked, his voice gravely as he tossed his ruined shirt into a corner. He’d folded his cut and lay it over one of the chairs. I thought I should probably clean both of them, but, A, I didn’t know how without damaging the leather, and B, I was starting to crash after the adrenaline and I wasn’t altogether certain how long I could stay upright. Instead I was going to get in the shower with Jack.
I nodded, fumbling with the buttons of my jeans. My hands were still unsteady. Not from fear, but from lingering adrenaline that refused to fade. The compound might have settled into an uneasy quiet outside these walls, but my blood still sang with the memory of danger.
"Let me help," Jack murmured, crossing to me in two long strides.
His hands, so capable of violence, were gentle as they brushed mine aside. Those same fingers that had twisted Shank's neck until it snapped now worked my buttons free with surprising tenderness. The contrast should have disturbed me. Instead, it made something warm unfurl in my chest. The lingering anxiety and adrenaline finally dissipated. Because I knew Jack would keep me safe. Simple as that. I trusted this man with my life.
I watched his face as he undressed me. The hard lines of his jaw were set in concentration, a bruise already forming along his cheekbone where Shank had landed a blow. A cut above his eye had crusted with dried blood. Now, I stood unashamed as Jack peeled away the layers, revealing skin marked with my own battle souvenirs: a scrape on my elbow from diving for cover, fingertip bruises on my upper arms where Ghost had yanked me to safety.
"You're staring," Jack said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.
"Just taking inventory," I replied, my fingers reaching to trace the knife wound across his chest. A long, angry slash to add to his collection of scars.
He caught my hand, pressing my palm flat against his chest. "Kiss me, Honey." His voice was a broken whisper.
The steady thump of his heart beneath my fingers grounded me. Alive. We were both alive when some of his brothers, men I considered friends, were not. That simple fact hit me with sudden force, and I surged up on my tiptoes, claiming his mouth with mine. He responded instantly, his arms banding around me, lifting me off my feet. The kiss tasted of blood and sweat but I didn't care. I needed this. Needed him. Bloody Jack Mason. My very own monster from Hell Night.
We stumbled into the shower, still tangled in each other. The hot spray hit my back like a physical shock, making me gasp. Jack swallowed my moan with another kiss. Water sluiced over his massive shoulders, turning brown as it rinsed away the grime of battle.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt, Jack?” It pained me to ask. I never wanted to think about him getting hurt but I didn’t want to take a chance on missing something I shouldn’t.
“I swear to you, baby, I’m fine. Now I have you solidly in my arms, I’m more than fine.”
I ran my hands over his body, mapping new bruises and small cuts and scrapes. A latticework of purple was already blooming across his ribs where Shank had landed a solid kick. I bent to press my lips against the discoloration, oddly satisfied when Jack's breath hitched in response.
"Honey," he groaned, his fingers tangling in my wet hair.
I looked up, water streaming down my face, and found his eyes blazing with heat. "I need you," I told him, the simple truth falling from my lips without hesitation or shame. "Now."
That was all it took. Jack spun me around, urging me to put my hands on the slick tile wall. He gripped my hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. These bruises I'd wear proudly tomorrow. He urged my foot onto the low bench and wrapped an arm around my waist before I felt his fingers bite into my hip once more.
The hot spray cascaded over us as I felt him position his cock at my entrance, just kissing me with the tip. My pulse hammered against my throat as his other hand swept my wet hair to one side, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.