Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
I lean over and open the drawer of the bedside table, taking out a remote. I press a button, and a TV glides out from the footboard of the bed. She lifts her head, watching it.
“What is that?”
“A TV. You didn’t know that was there?”
She shakes her head. I have a feeling that even if she had, she wouldn’t have used it. I scroll through the channels until I find a film.
I don’t see or hear the film. I’m acutely aware of Anna against me, every tiny movement, each staggered breath.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks so quietly that I barely hear her.
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I can’t explain this to myself, let alone her. I can’t tell her that a growing part of me wants her, because I know I shouldn’t. It’s fucked up.
“Well, thank you.” She kisses my cheek, soft lips lingering on my skin for only the briefest of seconds before she quickly ducks her head and lies down again. I have to bite back a groan. How does she make such a tiny, innocent act feel like she offered me everything?
At some point I must have fallen asleep because when I wake up, the room is dark, illuminated only by the blue glow of the television. My neck aches from sleeping at a strange angle, and I roll over.
“Hey,” Anna says. She’s lying on her side, a small smile on her lips as she watches me. Her hand comes to rest against my chest, and my skin heats under her touch.
She gnaws on her bottom lip and I reach out, pulling it from her teeth. “You’ll make yourself bleed.”
She drops her eyes away from mine, focusing on her hand on my chest.
“What’s wrong?”
She remains silent, and I sigh, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I need to leave. Sleeping in her bed is such a bad idea because if I’m honest, I’m not totally sure I trust myself with her. It makes me a predator of the worst kind, and Anna will never be ready for that.
“Wait,” she says. I glance over my shoulder at her small form buried in the pillows of the enormous bed. The blue screen of the television lights her face. “Could…could you teach me how to shoot a gun?” She asks in a rush, and I cock a brow at her. Even under the blue light, I can see her cheeks tinge pink. “Properly, I mean. On my own.”
“Why?” I already know why, but I want to hear her say it. She sits up, and the covers fall away from her chest, exposing the little camisole she’s wearing. She shrugs one slim shoulder. “Tell me why, Anna.” I round the bed until I come to a stop beside her. Her gaze lifts to mine, eyes soft, and her expression vulnerable. Gripping her jaw, I tilt her head back and lean in closer. “Say the words, avecita.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. I wait for the blooming flower to close up her petals, to retreat back into herself, but she doesn’t. Something unfurls, crackling between us until my pulse rises steadily.
“I don’t want to be weak anymore,” she whispers.
I swipe my thumb gently over her bottom lip, making her breath catch. “Ah, little warrior, you are far from weak.”
“Please,” she says. And fuck, that tiny, pleading note in her voice goes straight to my dick. I drag the corner of her lip down before forcing myself to release her.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say, my voice gruff. I have shit to do tomorrow morning, but nothing could be more important than this right now. I want to place a gun in her hand and watch her take control of her life. I want to watch the broken little bird become the warrior I know she can be, and she will. If I can do nothing else for her, at least I can do this.
16
Anna
Maria is already cooking breakfast when I walk into the kitchen the next morning, humming to herself under her breath. The routine of this house has become familiar to me, and I find a strange comfort in it. They’re like a family, no matter how dysfunctional it might be.
Rafael is at the breakfast bar, but I’m not ready to look at him. He stayed in my bed to make me feel safe, and I have no idea how to feel about that. I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, and my stomach coils tightly in response. Taking a cup of coffee, I sit across the bar from him before finally steeling myself and lifting my gaze.
He clasps a mug in tattooed hands, his elbows braced on the counter. I notice the way his suit jacket strains over his bunched biceps and his shirt buttons pull slightly beneath a wide chest. I force myself to look away, and he huffs a low laugh.