Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Big brown eyes glared up at him, her expression expectant, and challenge evident in the lift of her chin. Damn, she was willful and tireless. He was a year younger than she was, yet her energy ran circles around him. Apparently, he needed to workout more.
Judging by the fists that now moved to her hips, she was waiting for him to respond to her announcement. Impatient little twit. He'd already picked through her words, not only what she'd said but how she said it.
I've lost interest in escaping.
The steady resolve in her voice and her unwavering eye contact had been convincing. But her revelation wouldn't keep her from going outside. He'd make sure of that.
Because I like you, too.
Five easy words, but the promise they imparted filled him with fierce belonging. And an uncomfortable amount of sentimentality. He rubbed the back of his neck. He needed sleep. They both did.
“How about you like me upstairs...while we sleep.” He added that last part to make his intentions clear. Though he could be up for something else with a little coaxing.
She smiled, and the illumination of her eyes flooded the kitchen with light. “Yeah, okay. I'm beat.” Her voice hardened on the last syllable, asserting her disapproval of his heavy hand.
Bring it, baby. Fuck, he looked forward to her fight. After a good night's rest.
He let her lead up the spiraled stairs because really, how could he refuse an opportunity to be eye-level with her backside? And fuck him gently with a two-by-four, she flexed that ass with the grace of the gods. The sight of her round cheeks straining the fabric of her dress would chase his dreams for an eternity.
Then he remembered he hadn't packed any of her panties. Christ, she was too damned tempting. Halfway through the climb, he shoved the dress up to her waist, found two unmarred spots of supple flesh, and pinched the hell out of them with both hands.
Her shriek echoed through the cabin. “Hands off my ass!” She reached back, wriggling to his delight, her fingers curling around his wrists. “I mean it.”
He released her, chuckling. “Darling, my hands and your ass are meant to be together. Don't fuck with destiny.”
She sighed, adjusting the dress, but he didn't miss the smile dimpling her face.
“You're insufferable.” She shook her head, then flew up the remaining steps, and vanished into the loft, leaving him standing there grinning like a fool. A deliriously happy fool.
The scar on his face bristled with his smile, itching. His lips fell, his fingers rubbing his cheek. She could cut him far deeper than a bullet or a knife.
He clenched his jaw and gripped the railing. He couldn't fathom backing away from whatever this was. There was so much about her, her unpredictability and her routines, her strength and her brokenness, that made him want to go all the way, wherever that might take him.
Tonight, he would sleep with her in his arms. She deserved someone better, but at the very least, he could come to bed freshly showered.
Her footsteps pattered around in the loft. All the dangerous weapons were locked up. He dashed to the bathroom and grabbed a five-minute shower.
When he climbed the stairs again, it was with renewed purpose. At the top, he found her digging through her bags. “What are you looking for?”
“Pajamas.” She moved to another bag.
He hadn't packed those, either. “Wasting your time.” He shed the towel around his waist and stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind his head, blissfully naked. “We both know you sleep like this.”
She didn't look at him, but her arms stopped moving, elbows deep in a bag. “I hate that you know that.”
He could see how the stalking stuff might bug her, but... “I won't apologize for that.” His obsessive habit had led him to her. “Come to bed.”
He anticipated another fight, one where she would refuse to undress and he would win because, well, he always won. But in bewitching Amber-fashion, she shocked him again.
Rising to her feet, she faced him with her hands on the hem at her thighs and tugged it up and over her head. Gorgeously nude in the glow of the lamp, she walked to the hamper, folded the dress, and placed it on the pile of dirty clothes. She stared at it for several heartbeats with her lips pursed and her eyebrows pulled in.
He shifted to his side, lifting on an elbow. Was it the sight of her laundry mixed with his? Or maybe she had some kind of ritual that involved sorting clothes in multiple hampers? Would the absence of her system trigger another breakdown? He refused to go to her. He wanted her to come to him when she was upset. “Amber?”
She looked up, and her fingers flew to her knuckles. Crack-Crack—