Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
My cock throbbed with frustration as the image of her stripping down and pulling my shirt over that soft, curvy body seared into my mind.
Fuck. She was in my bedroom. About to climb into my bed. Wearing nothing but my T-shirt. My skin heated, and my dick strained painfully against my jeans. I shoved out a breath, forcing my steps toward the kitchen. I needed to get my damn head on straight, or I was going to march right back in there, peel that shirt back off, and claim her in every fucking way I wanted.
In the kitchen, I filled a glass of water and shook a couple of painkillers into my palm, my thoughts returning to the bedroom. My body had a mind of its own, stirring restlessly at the memory of her skin under my fingers and the heat of her body pressed to mine when I’d assessed her injury. I forced myself to exhale and steadied my nerves, reminding myself to get my shit under control before I walked back in there.
When I returned, she stood beside the bed, the hem of my T-shirt hanging just below her thighs, looking unsure and shy as hell. The sight hit me like a kick in the gut—hard, sweet, and absolutely fucking perfect. My dick twitched, and I silently cursed myself, wondering how I’d survive the night with her dressed in nothing but my shirt. The image of peeling it off, revealing inch after tempting inch of her curves, tested every ounce of self-control I had left.
Her gaze lifted to mine, her bright eyes filled with questions and a faint edge of defiance. I held out the water and pills, my voice gentle but firm. “Take these.”
She accepted them, downing the pills with a sip of water. Her throat moved as she swallowed, drawing my gaze to the delicate line of her neck, and I clenched my jaw against the fierce need to trace that same path with my lips.
“Get into bed, baby,” I said gruffly, my voice thick with the lust I couldn’t fully hide.
It wasn’t a request.
Her eyes flashed, her spine straightening, but the rebellion faded as quickly as it came. She was tired, probably sore as hell, and knew she needed to rest. After a moment’s hesitation, she sank onto the mattress with a quiet sigh.
I moved closer, unable to stop myself from reaching out, guiding her head onto the pillow, and adjusting the blankets around her shoulders. Her lashes fluttered softly, hiding those beautiful green eyes from me, but not before I saw the uncertainty there. The trust that still seemed fragile and new. It did something to my chest, making my breath catch and hold for just a heartbeat too long.
“Sleep,” I murmured, my voice softer than before.
I flipped off the bedside lamp, leaving only the dim hallway light filtering into the room. Then I grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants from the dresser and ducked into the bathroom to change. When I came back out, she was already breathing deep and even.
I stood there for a moment, watching her and memorizing the shape of her curled against my sheets. Then I turned and headed down the hall to my office two doors away, leaving the bedroom door ajar. If she needed anything, I’d hear her.
I settled into the leather chair at my desk, raking a hand through my hair as I waited for the call I knew was coming. Jax’s name flashed across my phone a few minutes later, right on cue.
“Talk to me,” I answered quietly, leaning back in the chair.
“Did some digging,” Jax started, his voice steady but edged with tension. “Hadley Rivers grew up under a microscope. Her father—Frederick Rivers—is a high-profile politician. Senator Rivers—big fucking name in Tallahassee. Projected stability, wealth, and perfect family values. The kind that keeps secrets buried deep.”
“Go on,” I growled, my jaw hardening with suspicion.
“Danielle, her mother, matches him. Perfect political wife, perfect family, everything controlled. Hadley’s entire life has likely been curated from birth—image management, public appearances, and no fuckups allowed. Hadley was raised in the spotlight, taught to be the ideal daughter, seen but never heard, and to reflect the family brand. Looks like she fit into that perfectly, too, at least from the outside.” Jax’s voice sharpened. “But you and I both know how that kind of family operates behind closed doors.”
My teeth ground together, a surge of anger rippling under my skin as the pieces finally clicked into place. The way Hadley hid discomfort behind practiced smiles and how she masked her fear and pain like second nature. Of course she had. She’d been conditioned to put on a front for years, forced into the rigid mold her parents carved out for her. I knew too fucking well how it felt to need absolute control just to breathe.