Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Beauty gives me a chef's kiss. "Mr. Woodburn, you are superb!"
I stare at her, stunned. The connection crackling between us is enough to keep my heart racing for the rest of the night.
She twines her arms around my neck, sighing my name sweetly.
I groan, my dick throbbing. This isn't why I brought her here, but it's what she does to me anyway. I want her. Incessantly.
"Kiss me," she breathes, letting me know she's right there with me.
"Gladly." I slip my hand into her hair, drawing her lips back to mine.
Her phone rings before I can deepen it.
She huffs and reaches into her pocket, quickly silencing it. She doesn't even look at the display, but she tenses slightly, stiffening in my arms. Over the last couple of days, she's gotten several calls that have gone unanswered. Every time, she reacts the same way.
I haven't asked about them, and she hasn't volunteered any information, but I'm not an ignorant man. It's her father. And she's ignoring him. It's my job to protect her, even if that means protecting her from her own stubbornness.
"I want to show you something," I murmur.
"Another surprise? Draven, really? You're spoiling me."
"Not a surprise this time." I root around in the bags of supplies until my hand closes over the small metal Thundercats lunch pail. I'm not even sure why I brought it, but this seemed like the perfect place to share my secrets with her. I'm glad now that I did. I think she needs to hear them.
I deposit the box in her lap.
"What is it?"
"My secrets."
A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "You're sharing your secrets with me?"
"I have no secrets from you, Dahlia. Everything I have is yours. You can have anything, go anywhere. Nothing is off-limits to you."
"Not even the library with your precious treasure?" she teases.
My mind drifts back to the first time we spoke, to the first time I tasted her kiss. "You're my treasure," I growl. "Open the box."
She hesitates and then flips open the lid, revealing the trinkets I've guarded my entire life. To everyone else, they're junk. An old baseball card, two matchbox cars, a paper sailboat, an old compass, a wooden top, and a newspaper clipping.
"What is all of this?" she asks, running her fingers gently over each item.
"What you called my precious treasure."
She smiles, her expression soft.
"The night we met in the library, I wasn't there after the whiskey," I explain. "I came to retrieve this box. I worried you might discover it and throw it away." I tap the dented lid. "I made the sailboat the day of the Halloween party. I won the matchbox cars and the wooden top playing ring toss right before…." I clear my throat. "Well, I got thirsty after the game, so I ran to get some punch. The newspaper clipping is from the day before, the last day I was fully human."
"Draven," she whispers.
"I suppose I kept them as reminders that I was normal once." I shrug, not sure why I kept them. Not sure it matters any longer. Those items don't hold the same weight for me as they did a few weeks ago. But the box and the compass? Those matter. "The box and compass belonged to my father."
She glances up at me, surprise evident in her expression.
"He died when I was seven. The box and compass are all I have left of him." His things still fill the house, but to me, they are just things. The box and compass aren't. I still remember when my father gave me each.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asks.
"Because I love you," I say simply. "And I don't want you to spend the rest of your life missing your father when all you have to do is pick up the phone, Beauty. You may never see eye to eye with him. You may never be ready to forgive him, and that's your right. But I know you. I know that you love him deeply even though he's wounded your heart. And I know you'll never truly be at peace until you try to work it out with him."
"You don't understand," she whispers. "He's not…He's not a good man, Draven. He's not a kind man."
"Let him carry that weight." I press nibbling kisses to her lips. "Don't carry it for him when it's hurting your heart, Beauty. Hear him out for your sake, and then you can decide whether you're ready to let him back into your life. But if you never pick up the phone, you'll spend the rest of your life missing him and wondering what if. Don't do that to yourself."
"I'll think about it," she says, sighing quietly.
Chapter Ten
Dahlia
No matter how hard I scrub the window, how many times I spray it, or which cloth I use, one stubborn stain refuses to shift. Tension sets in my jaw as I grit my teeth, working the cloth back and forth until my shoulders are sore.