Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“But Edward’s behavior was odd, right?”
“He clearly has a death wish and is too much of a coward to do it himself.”
“But he called you in advance. You said he didn’t want to get his head blown off. I know you know that. Don’t coddle me. Don’t lie to me again. Not even to protect me. And clearly, I’m still angry.”
His hands settle on my waist. “No coddling. No lies. And you have every right to be angry. I don’t have one ounce of understanding as to what the fuck that was that he pulled here tonight. But I promise you, I will when he wakes up.”
“You can’t make him talk.”
“I can make him talk.”
“How?” I ask.
“He cares about a woman in Mexico.”
I swallow hard. “You’ll threaten her?”
“I’ll do what I need to do.”
“And he’ll believe you’ll hurt her.”
“Yes. He will.”
“I thought—”
“I won’t kill her. That’s not who I am.”
“But he believes you are?”
“Because it’s who he is. Baby, I’m a killer, but I’m not that killer. Why don’t we put a frozen pizza in the oven and eat? I know how you love frozen pizza.”
His understanding of my hate for frozen pizza reminds me of just how well he knows me. He gets me, but do I get him? It’s hard to process how we could be the same two people we were when he’s the person who threatens a life, and others believe he means business. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“I have peanut butter and jelly.”
“Hot chocolate? Maybe we can really drink it this time?”
“Hot chocolate it is,” he says, his voice hitching with worry.
A few minutes later, we sit down on the couch and stare at the fire, sipping our hot chocolates. Long minutes pass in silence, the kind of silence that’s always been safe with him. He feels safe, and it’s confusing. He sets his mug down and takes mine, turning to face me. “I know you’re scared.”
He’s right. I am. “I want this storm to be over. I want to leave this cabin.”
“And we will. As soon as the roads clear.”
“And go where?”
“I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“What about Edward?” I ask. “Are you going to kill him?”
His jaw tenses. “Do you want that answer?”
“Yes. No lies.”
“Then yes, I’m going to kill him.”
I wait for this to bother me, but I think at this point, I’m numb. I’ve turned off a switch, and I’m in survival mode. I think I won’t know what I really feel until later, perhaps much later. “And then what? We ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? Is that really possible?”
“Damn straight we do, and it is.”
“Like the CIA will let you walk away? They think you’re a criminal.”
“I’ll prove I’m not, and I’ll resign. I told you. I have cash saved up. I’ll go into private hire work. We can go anywhere you want to go, and you can have your identity back. They took it to hide you from me.”
“I can be me again?”
“Yes, baby, you can be you again. I’m going to make that happen.”
“How will I explain who you are?”
“The truth. I was CIA, and you couldn’t tell anyone who I was.”
“It feels too simple.”
“Simple is safe and good. Always go with simple.”
“We aren’t simple.”
He lowers me to the couch and comes down on top of me. “We are as simple as it gets. Two people who love each other.”
“Yes, but—”
His mouth closes down on mine, and I forget what I was going to say. There is just his tongue licking against my tongue, and his hand sliding under my backside, caressing it, lifting me. “I really need to feel you close.”
“We just did that,” I remind him.
“Six months without you, Ashley. We didn’t do nearly enough.”
My hand settles on his face. “I hated thinking you were the enemy.”
“I hated knowing you thought I was the enemy.” And then he’s kissing me again, and his hands and mouth travel to my jaw, my neck, then lower. He pulls my sweater over my head and then he’s kissing my nipples, cupping my breasts. Kissing and licking a path down my body until he’s pressing his mouth to my belly and unzipping my pants. Heat rushes through me with the certainty of what he plans to do, and it’s been so long, so very long.
I’m right about where his mouth will travel next. He tugs my pants down and drags them, along with my shoes, off of my body. Then his hands are on my ankles, his eyes meeting mine. “I haven’t properly tasted you in six months.”
My nipples and my sex clench with that bold statement. “There’s a lot we haven’t done in six months.”
“Too much,” he says, easing my legs apart, settling one on his shoulder while he settles between my thighs and strokes a finger over my clit.