Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
“Was grabbing some coffee at the lodge and one of the city girls said she fancies taking a jolly old walk. Looking for some snaps. Her friends want to play board games, and she ain’t got no business going alone. Told her I’d do her the service of asking you ruffians.”
“Photos?” I say.
“Yup”
Evan walks up next to me, a playful glint in his eyes. He’s a tall, strong-as-a-bull kid, twenty-one with a mean streak when he needs it. I might’ve got the better of him yesterday, but it’s not always like that.
“Maybe I’ll go.” He winks at me. “What’d you think, Boone?”
I think he’s fixing to get his head caved in if he thinks I’m sharing Lila. Ever. Or if he thinks it’s a laughing matter.
“I’m taking her,” I growl. “And don’t even make jokes about it.”
Evan flinches. “Hell, Boone, I didn’t know it was like that.”
“It is like that.” Hot fire flows through my veins. “In fact, all of you should know. Lila is off-fucking-limits.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks, as we trudge up a muddy hill together, surrounded on all sides by trees with rainfall clinging to their leaves.
I offer her my hand and help her over a log. Her touch is electric. It surges through me. My lust. Something else too, something warmer. More meaningful.
“I wasn’t going to let anybody else take you.”
That volcanic blush erupts onto her cheeks, cute, beautiful. Her, and that’s the most important thing.
“You gettin’ some good shots?” I ask. “You purse your lips when you concentrate on your work.”
“Do I?” She pouts, leaning close to her camera.
“Yeah. It’s a sight to behold.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but she can’t hide the pleasure on her face.
“When did you start?” I ask, as we continue walking.
“I was six. My parents got divorced and … You don’t want to hear this from a stranger.”
She makes an adorable whimpering noise when I take her shoulders in my hands and look meaningfully into her eyes. “Number one: don’t call yourself a stranger. Number two: I do want to hear it, so start talking … ahh, please”
I can’t help but kiss her then. I push my lips hotly against hers. She moans as any resolve melts, sinking against me like she belongs. It feels right. It is right.
“Your parents?” I ask, as we move on.
“It’s a weird story. They split up, but they were still curious about each other’s lives. That’s why I started at first. I’d show Dad pictures of Mom’s place and vice versa. Anyway, they got back together four years later. But the photography stuck.”
“And you’re in college now?”
When she lets the camera rest between her bountiful breasts on the strap, I take her hand. She gives me a squeeze. It’s all so natural. Like it was meant to be this way.
I don’t even question the thought.
She nods. “Almost done. What about you?”
“I’m too old for college,” I joke.
We stop in a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by pines as if we have an audience.
“You’re not old, Boone.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Twenty-three and thirty-two; not that much difference.”
“No?”
I pull her in for another kiss. Her body pushes against mine so that I can feel each and every curve, the fleshy thickness of her horny body. She moans through the kiss, warm breath urging me on. My hand glides naturally and irresistibly over her hip, toward her ass, my manhood already gushing with seed, my trunk already as solid as the trees surrounding us.
A wolf whistle shatters the moment.
I take a step back, my head pulsing hotly, my fists clenched.
Who the fuck thinks they have the right to whistle at my woman?
Turning, I spot three men in hiking gear. Two of them have got mullets, around forty, tall and strong-looking country men. The third is younger and built even more thickly.
“Who whistled?” I growl.
“Boone,” Lila whispers.
I step in front of her. I don’t even want these motherfuckers looking at her, let alone thinking they can get away with whistling at her.
“I said,” my voice rising, “who the fuck whistled?”
One of the mullet pricks steps forward. He’s got a checkered shirt open to reveal a silver pendant in the shape of a pistol. “Might’ve been me. Call it a harmless joke, son, and be careful with that attitude.”
“You need to apologize to the lady,” I tell him flatly.
“Oh yeah?” Pistol pendant dude looks at his buddies, laughing, but the younger one doesn’t reciprocate. Mullet Number Two does, but it seems forced. “Hear that, boys?”
“It was just a joke,” the younger one mutters.
“Do you see me laughing.” It’s not a question. “Apologize. I won’t ask a third time.”
Pistol dude coughs out another wannabe tough guy laugh and then walks toward me like he’s going to do something.
I let him push me first, let him feel how royally fucked he is. I don’t move; he does. His shove forces him backward. His eyes snap open stupidly and his two buddies exchange a look.