Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I hold my breath to listen, but all I hear is the wind rustling through the branches, whispering through the trees, and then—
A crack.
A very distinct, not-the-wind kind of crack.
I stiffen, every muscle in my body tensing up. “What. The. Fuck. Was that?”
My cock deflates, all the blood draining out of it.
Lucy presses a hand to my chest, patting me twice. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Probably?” My voice shoots up half an octave. “That’s not comforting. At all.”
She bites her lip, like she’s debating whether to mess with me or let me suffer. “Could be another deer.”
“Or a bear!”
“Or a serial killer.” She says it nonchalantly, as if she’s filing her fingernails—not a care in the world.
“Oh my God.” I slide toward the tailgate, already reaching for her, tugging her along with me. “I’m not dying like this. Not naked. Not with you laughing over my dead body.”
Lucy tries—and fails—to suppress more laughter. “I cannot believe how terrified you are right now.”
“Excuse me for having survival instincts!” I hiss, unamused.
Another crack. Closer this time.
I grab her arm. “We’re leaving. Come on.”
I don’t wait for another sound. I haul her out of the truck like we’re in a full-blown horror movie, my survival instincts fully engaged.
Lucy stumbles, half laughing, half protesting as I practically drag her toward the cabin. “Harris—oh my God—are you seriously—”
“Yes! Yes, I am seriously! Pick up your feet before I throw you over my shoulder.”
Another snap of a branch.
I don’t look back. I don’t want to see whatever the hell is out there. I grip Lucy’s wrist tighter and run.
She’s gasping through her laughter. “You—you do realize we’re probably running toward it, right?”
“Do not say that!” I yell, fumbling with the cabin door. My fingers are shaking far too much to get a good grip on the handle or insert the key.
Lucy leans in, breathing on my neck. “What if it’s already inside?”
I stop. My entire body locks up.
She loses it.
I whirl on her. “This is not funny, Lucy.”
She’s crying with laughter now. “It’s a little funny. Baby bit.”
I yank the door open, shove her inside, and slam it shut behind us, chest heaving, back braced against it. “You are never talking me into outdoor sex again.”
“Do I have to remind you that we were just getting started?”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “Not happening. My dick is so flaccid right now.”
She bites down on her lower lip to entice me. “Bet I could change your mind.”
I scowl, crossing my arms. “Nope.”
She steps closer, fingertips dragging along my arm. “Not even if I—”
A loud thump hits the side of the cabin.
I scream.
She doubles over, gasping while I clutch my chest like I went into cardiac arrest. “You—” she wheezes. “You actually screamed.”
Of course I fucking screamed! I’m scared, goddammit! I glare, panting. “I—that was a manly yell.”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” She shakes her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “No, babe—that was a high-pitched terror scream.”
When I open my mouth to argue, Lucy shocks me by dropping to her knees in front of me, hands smoothing up my thighs. She runs her palms over my jeans, nails tickling me through the denim.
“Jesus Christ, Lucy.” I back up so fast I nearly knock into a table. “Now is not the time.”
My back hits the front door.
“Oh?” she laments. “You don’t look very . . . conflicted.”
“I am not conflicted.” I glance toward the window like whatever thumped against the cabin is about to burst inside and eat us alive. “I’m trying to survive.”
She bats her lashes. “Or we could make the most of our last moments together.”
I scowl down at her. “You suck at comforting people.”
A wicked smirk plays at her lips as she lifts the hem of my T-shirt and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to my stomach, right above the waistband of my pants. “Speaking of sucking . . .”
My brain short-circuits.
My breath catches in my throat.
My hands hover uselessly at my sides like my body can’t decide if I should stop her or help her along. I am a dude, after all, and my dick loves to do the talking . . .
“Lucy,” I warn, sounding so, so weak.
She looks up at me through dark lashes, the picture of sweetness and sin wrapped in one. “Hmm?” Her fingers toy with the button of my pants, the lightest graze of her nails sending sparks through my already overloaded system.
I exhale sharply, tilting my head back. I am so screwed.
“Still worried about survival?” she teases, pressing another kiss to my stomach. Navel.
My moan is not subtle. “I was. Now I’m worried I might actually die, but for very different reasons.”
She hums, hands splaying over my hip bones. “If you do, I promise to give a touching eulogy. Something tasteful.”
I tip my head forward so I can look down at her, one brow raised. “Tasteful?”