Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Monty walks beside me, his black hair gleaming in the streetlights. I cling to his strength, giving him more trust than I’ve given him in a long time.
Do I believe he’ll physically hurt me? Will he climb into my bed and stab me while I sleep?
It’s unthinkable.
But will he betray me again? Lie to me? Smash my heart beneath his shoe?
Not if I keep it locked far away from him.
We continue walking, the dock now in sight. Buildings loom on the waterfront, their windows like dark, empty eyes watching us pass. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being followed, that someone lurks just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
My gaze darts left and right. Every movement in the corner of my eye makes me flinch. I see shadows where there are none and hear footsteps that aren’t there. The night plays tricks on me, twisting my memories of captivity with the present terror of that phone call.
Monty’s grip tightens, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a rhythmic, calming motion.
“Look at me.” He stops in his tracks.
I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his frosty blue ones. Wolf’s eyes, but older, wiser, filled with a depth of emotion that anchors me.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises.
Monty Novak, my husband, my guardian. Despite the betrayal, despite the separation, he’s still the man I once loved deeply.
We resume walking until a sudden scraping from a nearby alley makes me jump. My heart leaps into my throat, my grip on Monty’s hand turning vise-like.
He doesn’t flinch, his gaze fixed on the source of the noise.
It’s just a cat scurrying away from us. The appearance and disappearance cut the tension, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling foolish for my fear.
Monty squeezes my hand and pulls me along.
We reach the dock, the wooden planks groaning under our feet. Boats bob in the water, their ropes creaking softly. I try to focus on the pace of our steps, matching mine to his.
One step at a time, Frankie. One step at a time.
As we board the yacht and prepare to depart without Leo and Kody, my body trembles with the effort to hold myself together.
It’s just one night. I’ll see them tomorrow. There’s no reason to freak out.
I measure my breath, chasing away the burn in my sinuses as I sit beside Monty at the helm.
“Nothing will happen to them.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as he navigates the yacht into open water. “I promise. We’ll get them out and hunt down the sick fuck who’s stalking you.”
He senses that something’s changed, something’s shifted between us, because he’s touching me, invading my space, inching his hands down my body.
The one caressing my exposed knee grows bolder, teasing the hem of my dress and the valley between my thighs.
“Monty.” I stiffen, squeezing my legs together and halting his fingers. “I love them.”
He yanks his hand away with a hiss.
“I will never leave them,” I say.
“Yes, you will.”
“Really?” I sneer. “How do you know? Because you know everything?”
“Watch that fucking tone.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fucking you is a start.” Low and velvety, his voice rubs against my overheated skin. “Bruising, claiming, ramming, burning, breaking, insides spilling, guts melting, spread open, ass up, crying out in the dark while you come on me, and I come in you. That’s where we’re headed.”
By the time he finishes, he has my feet off the floor, my thighs around his hips, and my back against the bulkhead. He grips my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him.
As he stares into my furious eyes, he realizes what he’s done.
“Fuck.” He drops me to the floor and staggers back.
The panic on his face conveys more regret than words could. Though it’s hard to forgive him with that raging boner tenting his pants.
I aim my glare at it.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He runs a hand through his dark strands, flexing the veiny muscles in his forearm. “I’m sorry. I’ve been celibate for so fucking long. My endless goddamn need for you is wearing me down.”
He turns, bending to grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge, drawing my focus to places I shouldn’t be looking.
The man knows how to wear a suit. Especially those pants. Tailored to his exact measurements, the expensive fabric makes his ass look delectable. I mean, he’s always had an incredible ass. It should be illegal.
He offers the water, and I take a greedy drink. As he guzzles down the rest of it, his free hand swiftly opens the buttons on his shirt, exposing the results of two months in the gym.
All V-cut abs, bulging pecs, and narrow hips. Shiny shoes. Five o’clock shadow. Beautifully chiseled face, crafted by God.
Six foot-five inches of psychological warfare in a designer suit.