Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“What’s that, Avery?”
Oh God, what am I doing? How can I confess my lack of experience to a man like Chris? If I tell him now, he’ll just get back into his car and leave. What would a competent man like him want with an inexperienced girl like me?
“N-never mind,” I mutter, shaking my head. I look away. I’m screwing this up bigtime. But to my surprise, he leans in, putting himself in my field of vision.
He looks at me like he knows me. Like I’m already special to him. And right then, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me.
He doesn’t.
He takes me by the hand and walks with me, his fingers knitted between mine. Not overly tight or possessive, just firm. Non-negotiable. My pulse is pounding against the inside of his thumb, and I know he can feel it. He knows what he’s doing to me.
So, why hasn’t he made a move? I may not have been on any dates, but I know enough from Jules that most guys would have tried to put their hands on me by now—on…other places.
“You’re old fashioned, huh?” I say, looking up at him. “For a man who forced me to go to lunch with him.”
“Forced? Nah, I didn’t force you. You wanted to come.”
I twist my lips, trying not to smile too wide. Yeah, he got me there.
A block from the car, he stops and turns to face me. Standing this close, my hand wrapped in his, I can see the tension in his face. Something he’s holding back.
“Avery, listen to me,” he says, his voice low. “You always have a choice with me. Understand?”
“Yes.” I nod. Where is this going?
“If you want me to take you home right now, I will. But if you don’t…”
My heart beats faster. I shake my head. “I don’t want you to take me home.”
Something almost like relief moves through his expression. No, maybe it’s hunger—or both. He gently rubs my wrist with his thumb, sending a delightful shiver through my body.
How did I end up with an Adonis like this touching me?
“Good. Because I don’t want to either.”
We stand there for a moment—a long moment—just staring at each other, his thumb on the pulse of my wrist while the city hums around us. The world feels pressurized. Charged like a bomb ready to explode.
Chris’s eyes are so blue that with the light glancing off them, they’re almost silver. His broad chest rises and falls, and I can’t stop myself from admiring his physique.
I can also see the effort he’s putting into not getting closer.
But I want him to!
I want it so badly that my lips part on their own. His gaze moves down to my mouth and remains there, his face firm as his grip on my hand tightens.
Again, he doesn’t kiss me.
It’s like he’s doing this on purpose. Making me wait so when he finally does, I’ll simply explode with relief.
“Come on,” he finally says, pulling me toward the car. We only make it a few steps when it happens.
Two men step out of a side alley. One is lean and twitchy, grinding his teeth like he’s on something. The other is wide-eyed and focused. Both of them have knives in their hands.
“Gimme your fucking wallet!” the twitchy one snaps, raising the knife toward Chris. His voice is sickly, and my body goes cold immediately. I freeze as panic sweeps through me.
Chris does not freeze.
“Why don’t you two just turn around, okay?” It’s not quite a question. More of a command that sounds like one. He’s completely unrattled.
“Turn around?” the other man laughs. “Why don’t you gimme your wallet!?”
What happens next happens almost instantaneously.
Chris steps aside, drawing the men away from me. One lunges in with his blade, but Chris’s left hand whips up, catching the man by the wrist. In one swift motion, I hear something pop, followed by the man screaming. The knife falls to the ground. The other man cries out and rushes forward. Chris drives his foot into the man’s stomach, folding him in half.
He falls beside his companion, gasping for breath. With a simple movement, Chris kicks their knives away.
It’s all over before my brain could even process it starting.
Chris’s speed, his comfort with violence, his stoicism—it should terrify me. I should probably run.
Instead, a dark heat blooms deep within me. I want to throw myself into his arms.
God, what is wrong with me?
Ignoring the men writhing on the ground, Chris turns to me. This time, he doesn’t go for my hand. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, leading me away from the scene and over to the car.
“You all right?” he asks. Of course I am. I wasn’t even touched.
I nod. “Because of you.”
I look up and see real concern in his eyes. The man who just dismantled two armed attackers is actually worried now, not because of them, but because I might have been hurt.