Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Has anyone ever told you that you're bossy?" I ask, trying to focus on anything other than the existence of those tattoos.
He growls at me. Actually growls. It's the single most menacing sound I've ever heard, and yet it instantly sets my girly parts on fire.
"He's my older brother," I hurry to say.
His expression softens.
"Well, half-brother, I guess. We have the same mom, but his dad raised him."
"You were raised by a single mom?"
I roll my eyes toward the skylight above us. "Single means something different to her than it does to the rest of the world."
"Explain."
"She's only taken when it's convenient for her," I explain. "She cheated on Rhys's dad with another man, and then cheated on that man with my dad. My dad left her for another woman, which was poetic justice, honestly."
"I take it this happened often? Here." He wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me, making me squeak in protest. But before I can even complain, he's already deposited me on the cabinet and knelt to rummage through the drawers.
"Stop picking me up," I complain anyway. "I can move myself places just fine. And you say happened as if you expect that the behavior ended at some point."
He lifts his head, those gray eyes meeting mine. "She's still doing it?"
"It's like Taylor Swift says in All Too Well. She got older, but her boyfriends didn't," I say, watching as he rises to his feet with an ace bandage in his hands. "She's fifty-three. Husband number six—or is it seven? —is thirty-four, the same age as my brother. What are you going to do with that?"
"Wrap your ankle."
"Oh." I exhale a relieved breath.
"What did you think I was going to do with it?" One dark brow slowly rises toward his hairline. The fine lines around his eyes deepen.
"Tie me to the furnace in your basement."
His gaze sweeps across me, his eyes heating. His upper lip curls into a smirk that does wicked things to my insides. My stomach turns a backflip and then another, my thighs growing damp. I can already tell it's going to be a very uncomfortable day. I have no panties on, and I'm going to soak right through his oversized sweats if he keeps looking at me like he wants to eat me for dinner.
I rip my gaze away from his, trying to think about anything other than him eating me. I focus on the wall behind him instead. His bathroom is gorgeous. The whole house is beautiful, honestly. It's a massive farmhouse with rustic furniture, cream walls, and red accents. The bathroom walls are slate gray with matching tile floors. The shower is incredible. I used all the hot water and don't even feel sorry about it.
"You really live here alone?" I ask as he reaches for my foot to wrap up my ankle. It's starting to swell. It hurts like hell too. He brought me some pain relievers when he brought me clothes, but they haven't helped much.
"Yep. My brother lives up the mountain and my sister lives in town."
"What about your parents?"
A flash of grief crosses his face.
"Died," he rasps. "Car wreck."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Cord." I place a hand on his arm, my heart aching for him. I don't know what it's like to have normal parents or a close-knit family, but it's obvious he does. There are pictures all over the house, though I didn't get a good look at any of them. "How long ago?"
"Fifteen years."
We fall silent as he finishes wrapping up my ankle and then helps me down from the counter. He keeps one hand extended toward me as if to catch me while I test out the wrapping. My ankle twinges in discomfort, but it's not nearly as bad this time.
"How does that feel?" he asks.
"Better. Thank you," I whisper, and then fidget restlessly. "Um, I have to let my friends know that I'm okay or they'll be worried about me. My brother too."
"You have your cellphone?"
"Are you going to confiscate it?" I ask, suspicious.
He smiles at me. "We both know you aren't here to steal or liberate my cattle, Cassia. We also know you aren't going anywhere on that ankle until after the storm. Besides, you have no shoes. So no, I'm not confiscating your phone. I don't need to take it to keep you here."
He's right, dang it.
"Then you don't need to tie me up either," I point out. Maybe I don't need to tell him the truth right away. If he isn't going to tie me up, I can have a little bit of fun with him first. He did spend six weeks complaining about my books, after all.
"Oh, pretty baby," he says, wrapping one hand around my hip and tugging gently until I'm pressed up against him. His mouth lands against the side of my neck. "If I tie you up, it won't be because I need to do it. It'll be because I want you spread out and at my mercy."