Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
There’s silence between us, but that silence has never been so loud.
He dips under the water, letting it wash right over his face, the same way I had, and I take my chance to step out of the water before hanging my clothes over a low-lying branch. They’re not perfect, but they’re a million times better than what they were.
I ease back into the water as my clothes begin to dry. Today isn’t exactly the hottest day, but the material is thin enough that it shouldn’t take long. Stone hangs his wet jumpsuit over a fallen log, the bottom of it still dragging the dirty ground, and I shake my head. I swear, men just don’t care about shit like this. He hangs a white tank beside it, and just like me, he wades back into the water, keeping his distance as he stands waist deep.
I keep going, sinking as deep as my ribcage before tipping my head back, lifting my legs, and floating across the surface. With the sun warm on my face, I enjoy the weightlessness that finally gives my feet a break. My calves and quads have been burning for well over twenty-four hours. There’s a reason I haven’t taken on the hiking lifestyle. It’s not me. Not by a long shot. My daily exercise consists of lifting things to my mouth. Coffee. Food. Cocks. All my favorite things.
“We need to find a small town,” he tells me, finally breaking the tension-filled silence. “There has to be somewhere close. We need different clothes. Food and clean water. Maybe cut your hair. Steal a box of hair dye. Brunette maybe. It’s too recognizable the way it is.”
Unease settles through me, and I lower my feet back to the sandy lakebed before turning to face him and really taking him in. Droplets of water linger on his bare skin, and fuck, he’s absolutely delicious.
His skin is covered in ink, full sleeves of tattoos cover both arms, leading right up over his chest and to his neck. If I were a braver woman, I’d study each one of them, committing them to memory. His chest is defined, proof of how much time he’s spent working on himself over these past seven years. His abs are tight like woven steel beneath his skin, and I track every last one of them, sailing all the way down to the deep V low on his pelvis.
He’s flawless, and the way he watches me in return tells me he has a few thoughts on my body too, but I don’t want to know them. With my gaze locked on his body, I move through the water, taking my time until I stand right before him, my hungry stare eating him up like the starved woman I am.
Sucking in a nervous breath, I lift my hand, laying it against his warm chest before trailing it across the defined lines of his muscles, soaking in every last inch of him. He doesn’t make a move to touch me. Just watches me in return, waiting for whatever it is I’ve come here for.
The tension skyrockets between us, and as my fingers trail across his decorated skin, fire burns deep in the pit of my core, desperate to feel the way this beast would fill me. My hand pushes up to his throat, my thumb brushing across the ink as I explore. When I trail my palm back down to his shoulder and follow it to his massive bicep, my heated gaze collides with his, and it’s like lightning finally meeting its match.
I inch closer, my chest brushing across his warm skin as I keep my stare locked on his, desperate to feel his hands on my body. “Let me make one thing clear, we are not in this together. I’m your hostage, so be it, a willing one at this particular moment, but a hostage all the same. I am not cutting my hair and dying it to make life easier for you. I will keep my mouth shut, I’ll be a good little hostage, but the moment the cops catch up to us, I’m out. I’m going back to the life that I worked my ass off to build. I know there’s history between us, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t know who you are. I don’t owe you my loyalty. Not anymore.”
And with that, I stride out of the water, grab my almost dry clothes off the low-hanging branch, and disappear into the bushes beyond, his sharp stare tracking my every step.
16
STONE
Aria and I have walked for well over two days before we finally reach the edge of the thick bushland, stepping out of the woods and to the outskirts of an old, run-down small town.
“Oh, thank God,” Aria groans beside me, already trying to take a step closer toward the town, but I catch her upper arm, bringing her to a stop.