Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
The wound in her arm was superficial. Had to hurt like hell, but the bullet had only shaved a few layers of skin. Relief flooded him. He caught at the waistband of her jeans. She gasped as he tried to gently work them over her hips and down her thighs. She didn’t cry out. She didn’t reprimand him or burst into tears, she just made that one single sound, a rush of air, pain flashing over her face, and she turned her head away from him.
“Damn it, Wildfire. You drive me insane. You don’t need to be all stoic. I can handle a few tears and maybe some screaming when it hurts.” He sounded like an asshole, his voice rough and scary.
“You sound angry.”
She didn’t turn her head back toward him, but he was standing above her and he could see her fantastic lips curve slightly. For one moment her dimple showed. He dragged her jeans down to further expose the wound in her thigh. His heart took another hit. Yeah, this one had to hurt like a mother.
“You think? Glad you’re able to comprehend. You had no business getting yourself shot.”
She pressed her lips together and tried not to come off the seat when he examined the wound. “I suppose it was okay for you to get shot.”
Bog, he wanted to shake her. “How many times do I have to explain things to you?”
She was shaking so much he was half-afraid she’d break bones. He had nothing to cover her with, so he just reached over her and tried coaxing the truck to start. It took several attempts, but the engine turned over. It knocked like crazy, sounding as if it was going to come apart, but he didn’t give a damn. He blasted the heater.
There was a small first aid kit in the glove compartment, and he cleaned both wounds. He’d address the head wound later, after he got her warm. Butterfly stitches were the best he could do. Later, if that didn’t hold, he’d use a needle and thread. He could pull thread from anything if he had to. He detested that she didn’t make a sound while he worked on her. She kept her face averted and shook until she appeared to be having seizures.
He spent a few minutes rummaging through the double cab, looking for anything that might keep her warm. He found a sleeping bag that had seen better days, but it would help. An old flannel shirt that would cover her to her knees. He really didn’t like her wearing another man’s shirt, but there was nothing else for it. That just proved he had it bad, whatever the fuck it was.
He warmed the shirt up in front of the heater and then carefully lifted her into a sitting position so he could envelop her in it. Once he laid her down again, he tucked the rather disgusting sleeping bag around her.
“Babe, I’ve got a lot more to do to make us safe, but if I don’t warm up, I’m going to be in trouble. We can’t afford that.” He had no idea why he was bothering to explain himself as he set aside his boots and peeled off his wet clothes. “The fastest way to heat up is skin-to-skin. I’m going to lay down and put you on top of me with your shirt unbuttoned and then pull that foul-smelling sleeping bag over the two of us. I have no idea how long the heater will last, but I do know we aren’t safe here. Someone is going to come looking for them, and we don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when they do.”
As he explained, he put the plan in motion, thankful she was so tiny. He had a good hundred pounds on her, all muscle. She was easy to maneuver, even when he was being careful of her wounds. She didn’t protest or even stiffen up as he slipped the buttons loose on her shirt, pulled it open, and arranged her over his naked body. When he had her skin-to-skin on his bare chest, he drew up the sleeping bag.
His head pounded, his body shivering continuously in the first stages of hypothermia. Even his teeth were chattering, and his movements had become clumsy. He needed this. As tiny as she was, as cold as her body was, the moment she was sprawled over him, he felt the difference. Maybe not warmth of body, not at first, but something shifted in him. Something hot and wild and possessive. Something he’d never felt before and didn’t want to put a name to. Maybe there was no name for it, but when he wrapped his arms around Lyric and just held her to him, sharing skin, her breath on his chest right over his heart, nothing in his life had ever felt so right. Scary right. The way he felt terrified him.