Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
He yanked her T-shirt over her head.
She laughed.
He cupped her butt and ran his fingers down and between her legs, finding her wet. “Interesting, Agent Snow.” He tore off her panties and kicked his boxers out of the way before pulling her up onto her hands and knees.
“Huck?” she breathed.
“Yeah.” He positioned himself at her entrance and then slowly pushed himself in.
She tossed back that wild auburn hair, and it curled across her bare back.
He leaned over her and nipped her delicate nape. She shivered. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Good. He lifted back up, grabbed her hips, and pounded into her. Hard and fast he moved, enjoying the perfect outline of his hand on her butt. Heat roared through him, so he switched his angle, feeling her body tremble.
She tensed and then gasped as her body gyrated with an orgasm, gripping him so tightly inside her that he saw stars. He let her ride the waves before he allowed himself to let go, his climax stealing his breath.
He withdrew and tugged her to his side, spooning his big body around her.
She slapped his hand. “I can’t believe you spanked me.”
He snorted, kissing the back of her head. “That was a love slap. Behave yourself so you don’t learn the difference.”
She chuckled, the sound sleepy. “I have a gun, Rivers. Never forget it.” Then she dropped instantly into sleep.
He held her tight, listening as a punishing rain began to fall outside. The thoughts returned, and he allowed them in this time, content as she breathed evenly against him.
There was no line he wouldn’t cross to keep her safe.
Not a one.
Chapter 29
Jason Abbott sat in front of the crackling campfire with his gun at his back, his knife in his boot, and his ax leaning against a nearby tree. He held a flashlight in his mouth as he read through the pages of his most recent journal. The memories came rushing back, and he remembered the sweetness of each kill.
His dick hardened to rock. Where was he going to find black dahlias now?
A rumble started down the dirt drive, and he paused, letting the flashlight drop onto the descriptive pages before setting it aside on a log stump next to him. He pulled the weapon from the back of his waist and stood, pointing it at the bulky car.
Like before, it was an older Cadillac glinting golden in the firelight. The vehicle rolled to a stop, and the door opened, a gun emerging first, pointed at him. Then she stepped out. She slammed the door shut and walked gracefully toward him, tonight wearing all black: sweater, jeans, boots. Even a black knit hat covered her head and a portion of that unreal auburn hair.
“Are the guns really necessary?” Abigail Caine asked, edging toward him, no fear on her face.
He tilted his head. “Where’s the sniper rifle?”
“It’s in the car,” she murmured, drawing nearer. “If you shoot, I shoot. How about we put them away?”
“Why?” he asked insolently, the idea of wrapping his hands around her neck nearly making him come in his pants.
She sighed as if becoming bored. “Would you stop acting silly? We both know you have a much higher intelligence than most people realize. How about you act like it?”
He hated when she spoke to him like that, and yet he also wanted to understand. Why did she always seem to be irritated or bored with him? He was smarter than she was—for sure. “What exactly do you think is going to happen here?”
Her gaze dropped to the journals on the stump. “I thought I could read one of those, and then we have to burn them, Jason.”
Fire lashed through him. “We can’t burn them. I recorded everything. These are mine.” He sounded petulant, and he knew it. He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. The way she’d taught him.
“If you detailed your kills, then we have to destroy them.” She spoke slowly and with a commanding voice, one he remembered from those experiments.
“What did you shoot into my veins during those experiments anyway?” he asked.
She smiled, looking quite lovely in the firelight. She’d look even better dead. “I tell you what. How about we sit, have a nice chat, and I’ll tell you? Put down your gun.”
He’d wondered for months, truly not understanding. He’d believed when he signed up for her study that she would help him manage his rage. That those injections were vitamin B shots. He now knew otherwise. “All right. You first.”
“How about at the same time?” She sounded bored again.
He wanted to roll his eyes but instead stared at her directly. “All right. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”
They both lowered their weapons.
“How about we toss them over there?” she suggested, pointing to a tree close to his cabin.