Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Do not scan for what he’s packing.
This should not be the mantra going through my head less than twenty-four hours after we were almost robbed.
This coffee isn’t cutting it. I need water.
Leaning my hip against the counter, I swirl the mug and pretend the liquid looks like the most interesting thing in the world. Also, we need to talk, even if being alone together gives everything an added intensity.
I blow out a long, slow breath.
“Good coffee,” I say, riveting my eyes to the mug.
Lame. Do not look at him.
But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a single rational thought in my mind anymore when we’re sharing the same room.
“Just a local dark roast, nothing fancy. Glad you approve.” He looks at me and squints. “We should get started on dinner. Clear our heads.”
Okay, but don’t look!
I do.
My self-control has always sucked, and those pants outline his toned legs in demonic ways.
“Dinner,” I echo blankly.
He nods. “You’ll feel better with some food in you.”
I’m so not hungry. Not for food.
There’s only one thing I want in me right now and the cost will be atrocious.
When I step closer, it’s not a conscious decision.
My mug lands on the counter with a decisive clink!
Holden watches me with his eyes gone black, nightfall in his face.
The guarded heat in that gaze renders me dumb. Or maybe it’s just the fact that a girl can only endure so much.
There’s only so much quiet teasing, only so much flaming proximity to a man that a woman can endure, and it’s breaking me.
“Clee,” he rasps as I stop in front of him, barely two inches away.
“Dinner can wait. I have a better idea.” My voice is hushed.
I flatten my palm on his chest and bite my bottom lip, teeth digging into my flesh the same way I’d love to rake my nails over his skin.
His heart pounds under my hand like a jackhammer.
Same tempo as my hummingbird heart, but so much stronger.
“What?” he growls like he doesn’t already know.
His bestial hand wraps around me and stops on the small of my back, hovering above my waist, like he’s trying to decide if he should pull me closer or push me away.
“How to clear our heads,” I whisper.
I’m desperate, okay?
If I have to sit and watch him cook up a whole-ass meal while he’s dressed like sin, I will self-combust.
He doesn’t answer. His body warms me as it presses against mine.
“Damn you. We can’t keep doing this shit and you know it,” he rasps, but he doesn’t push me away.
I know, I know.
But I also know stopping isn’t in the cards, so where’s the harm of facing it head-on, getting it out of our system?
Eyes burning, he brings both hands to my hips. When his fingers squeeze my skin, I almost moan.
I lean in closer, my hips locked in those big, eager hands.
I feel less guilty now.
I’m definitely not the only one who’s starved for attention.
We’re alone in this room, in this house, in this torture, and all this sexual energy has to go somewhere. It’s like a law of physics.
His eyes flare, a desert night teeming with secrets. He’s gazing into me, too, and I know what he sees.
Total desperation.
“Stop fighting it and kiss me,” I whisper.
After last time, I want him to initiate.
I want Holden to kiss me and tear the air from my lungs because he can’t stand to do anything less.
Because he feels the same animalistic call in his blood.
There’s a brutal, dark moment where I don’t think he’ll give in, control freak that he is. He’s older and wiser and why would he want the trouble?
I’m such an idiot.
He can wear that desire on his face without blowing up his life. He can touch me and walk away without turning into ash.
Then he releases a long, harsh breath and shoves me against him, gripping my ass as he brings his mouth down on mine, lips burning.
Finally!
Sweet heaven.
I kiss him back like mad, moaning, one hand tracing his neck, holding him against me. He overwhelms every sense as he opens his mouth and growls so hard it vibrates my bones.
His tongue claims my bottom lip until I welcome him in.
I suck him deeper into my mouth, needy as hell.
He groans.
He devours me.
Holden’s big, rough hands are everywhere. My hips, my waist, skimming up my sides until his thumbs brush my breasts.
Me, I’m just trying to hold on.
My nails rake through his short thick hair, grazing his scalp until he grunts. My other hand explores his shoulders, broad as the horizon holding up the sky.
This man is pure granite.
Miles of hard, carved rock and secret valleys.
Wild, wild country, certain to strand me in the wilderness, and baby, I’m ready.
Moaning, I dig my fingers into his skin.
More guttural approval in his throat. More breath and heat and desire against my lips, my throat, my collarbone.