Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
On trembling legs, she drifted to the window, getting a closer look at his rugged shoulders, hard chest, and the ribbed abs that disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung sweatpants.
God, she couldn’t even count how many times she’d touched herself and thought of him…
That isn’t why you’re here. Focus.
The time had come to ask for his help. The question was, would he protect her? Or would he merely break her heart again?
CHAPTER TWO
Lafayette, LA
Matt Montgomery cursed as he stared out the window at the pouring rain. He’d lived in Louisiana for three years, and there were still things he didn’t understand about this state. Like swamps all over the damn place, hungry gators, and a community who spoke a version of French that sounded nothing like the language he’d learned in high school. Now he had to contend with a summer rain that lasted for days and felt like a hot, sticky blanket.
Why did he still live here? Right, because he liked the people and the Southern hospitality. He loved his job. Nothing but his father and bad memories waited for him in Wyoming.
And you keep hoping she’ll come back…
With a curse, he turned away and paced the house he’d been renting since impulsively deciding to stay in Lafayette. He had no business thinking of Madison Archer. Or rather, Madison Archer-Pershing. Three years had passed since Trees and Laila’s wedding, when he’d spent that mind-blowing weekend in a suite, sharing champagne, cheese fries, his deepest secrets, and the most off-the-chain, mind-blowing sex of his life with her. Now, she was very much married to some bigwig senator’s grandson. She’d moved out of the bayou and moved up to the world of wealth and influence—two things he could never give her. Besides, he was no good for her. That weekend had proven it.
Those realizations were the big turd on top of a giant shit sundae.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket, praying it was work. He could use some adrenaline and action to take his mind off Madison and spice up his night.
Instead, he found a text message from Casey, his latest friend-with-benefits. As usual, she didn’t beat around the bush.
Rain turns me on. Let’s fuck.
Normally, he would. In fact, since news of Madison’s engagement to Senator Winston Pershing’s grandson, Todd, had splashed across newscasts and social media, Matt hadn’t turned many offers down. A hookup at a bar here and a sexy sleepover with a neighbor there? Why not? A blind date? A flight attendant? A random quickie at the grocery store? Check, check, and check. Hell, he’d even nailed a former client, a gym pal’s little sister, and Madison’s high-school nemesis. He’d totally been game for that. When he’d met Casey at a community food festival and they’d gotten to talking about mutual acquaintances, she’d pointed out he had already fucked two of her friends. They’d apparently left with smiles, and she wanted some of that for herself. At the time, the arrangement had seemed perfect. After two weeks, he wasn’t interested anymore.
He could no longer avoid the terrifying truth. No one measured up to Madison and the way she made him feel. The picture of the suite they’d shared that infamous weekend, bed wrecked and champagne bottle empty, was proof. He still stared at that image nearly every fucking day.
Dude, she isn’t coming back. Move the fuck on.
Good advice, especially since he was pretty sure that, any day now, he’d be hearing about Madison being knocked up by that stuffy blue blood. God, Matt felt like a stupid ass, because the thought of her in bed with the entitled prick made him homicidal. He really should get laid.
He just didn’t want to, not by Casey. Not by anyone else he could think of.
Only Madison.
How the fuck had she ruined him in a mere forty-eight hours and made it last three goddamn years?
Unfortunately, Matt knew the answer. He shouldn’t risk tempting fate again.
Sighing, he grabbed a beer, downed half of it, then headed back to the window. She was out there, somewhere. Probably at some pompous, thirty-thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser, rubbing elbows with people who would look down on him for making a living by his gun.
Fuck them. And fuck her. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to fuck Casey tonight.
Retrieving his phone, he started to type out a response when he suddenly heard a tap at his window that startled the hell out of him. He reared back, then saw a face on the other side of the glass. Ball cap, sunglasses, baggy T-shirt plastered to a slight frame. No distinguishing features or tattoos. At first glance, it looked like a teenage boy. But the face had a softness… Smooth, fair skin, gracefully arched brows, a delicately sloped jaw, and huge eyes.
Why the fuck would this kid be out in the pouring rain after ten o’clock at night? Hell, why would he avoid the covered porch, choosing to tap on the window instead of knocking on the front door?