Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
His head twists sideways, his eyes go blank and he falls to the ground.
Behind him stands a furious Raider, behemoth fists shaking at his sides, nostrils flared, chest rioting with labored breaths. Lord, he’s so massive, his body blocks out the whole night sky, and every sinewy inch of him is rippling with anger…and hurt?
Before I can examine further, I’m picked up and thrown over his wide right shoulder, which could comfortably fit three of me. Defeat makes me go limp, my eyes gritty with disappointment.
“Why? Why did you run from me?” His gritted question sends a sob rising from my chest and releasing hard, seeming to make Raider’s gait falter. “Are you hurt?”
“No. But you should see the other guy.” Dangling upside down, I pinkie wave at the corpse slumped in the stairwell. “Can you make my death swift like his, please? I don’t want to see it coming, either.”
His snarl rings in my ears. “We’re back to thinking I’m going to kill you?”
“Why else would you bring me here?”
Darkness swallows us and we stop abruptly. The world tilts once again and my feet find hard earth, twirling my equilibrium like a tossed baton. There’s an urge to feint right, then left and take off again, hoping my second attempt will be successful and won’t end in capital murder, but for some reason I hold back.
As Raider unlocks the back of his van and throws open the doors, I once again glimpse the hurt I thought I imagined earlier. It’s in the slump of his shoulders, the wounded bear expression. He seemed genuinely worried that I might have been hurt. If he plans to off me, would he even care?
Raider jerks his head toward the back of his van. “Get in.”
Swallowing hard, I peer inside at the mattress, which I didn’t get a great look at before. It’s unexpectedly…clean. Dark blue sheets have been tucked over the corners, but they’re too small, so I can see the mattress beneath is pristine white. As if it was only purchased recently. Weird.
“But…you set this up before coming to my house?”
“No more questions,” he rasps, lifting me by the waist and tossing me onto the mattress. I bounce once, then scamper back as far as I can go, pressing against the cold leather back of the driver’s seat. My eyes are probably the size of dinner plates as Raider climbs into the van, dipping the groaning vehicle with his considerable weight. “Get those boy clothes off your little girl body now.”
The double doors slam, making me jump. Raider’s mass inhabits the entire van, dominating every molecule of space. There’s a tiny sliver of flickering street light filtering into the van around the edges of black paint covering the windows. It illuminates the damaged planes of his face, wild green eyes alive with starvation. His pants are tented, his mile-wide chest fighting for breath…
An image hits me of Raider in my living room. Before he took me. The way the hostility seeped out of his body when I touched him. You tamed the beast, my brother said. Added to the hurt he keeps forgetting to hide from me, I’m starting to wonder if this man is just scaring me…because he doesn’t know any other way.
What do I have to lose by testing my theory? Nothing.
Holding his gaze, I unzip my hoodie and push it off my shoulders. The tank top beneath is tight and low, something I usually only wear alone in my room. When the streetlight flickers and he glimpses my admittedly small but high breasts, his growl is so loud, I reach up and cover my ears until he’s finished. By the time my pants come off and I’m left in nothing but a tank top—no bra—and a powder-blue thong, Raider is seething with explosive energy. Violent, masculine need. Any second now, I’m going to be thrown down and devirginized, so I take a deep breath for courage and walk across the mattress on my knees toward the giant.
I lift my hands, letting them hover above his suddenly still chest a moment before planting them there. Still, he doesn’t breathe or bat an eyelash. Carefully, I trace my touch up to his rough, scarred, unshaven face…and with a gruff, desperate sound, he turns into my touch, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. As I watch in awe, he nuzzles me, malice leaching from his expression in degrees.
“There now,” I murmur, stroking his cheeks, his scalp. “You’re not so mean, are you?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Raider
Late at night in my cell, I used to imagine the doll touching me like this. Every time, I battled to keep it pure. Battled to keep her imaginary hands on my face, or even my shoulders. Prison weakened my good intentions, though, as it does every man, and eventually I gave up the fight. Later in my term, when I thought of the beautiful blonde as I’d seen her that single time—riding around on her bike, licking a red popsicle—she went straight to her knees to lick something else entirely.