Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
A wave slaps down over my head and I come up gasping.
That’s it. I’m scared. Now, I’m scared.
My legs are getting tired and I can’t breathe around the panic—
A flash of skin, then a pair of angry blue eyes is all I see before an arm bands around my chest. Suddenly, I’m face up, rain pouring down on my face while I’m being dragged backwards through the water. My instinct is to cling to the person holding me—where did he come from?—but his hold is too tight and I can’t turn around. All I can do is suck down oxygen while he swims.
“You must be the biggest idiot alive,” growls a male voice.
I’m too busy trying to breathe to agree. But I would if I could. The ocean is tumultuous and dark. A storm must have been right about to break before I went into the water.
What is the matter with me?
His body changes positions and stabilizes in a way that I know his feet are now touching the ocean floor and I’m so relieved I’m not going to die and leave my siblings to an uncertain fate, I go completely limp, leaving my good Samaritan to carry me out of the water. We’ve only gone two steps when I get a good look at my hero’s profile and realize I should have known exactly who it was when he called me an idiot.
It's the man from the cliff.
Koen. My target.
He’s…oh my goodness. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.
His jaw is carved from ice, his eyes glacial.
He exudes capability. Strength.
And total contempt.
“If you’re going to drown yourself, do you mind doing it on somebody’s else’s beach?” He settles me onto the sand with a gentleness that belies his harsh words, but as soon as he’s satisfied that I’m not going to pitch sideways, he backs up. “Fishing a drowned rat out of the ocean wasn’t on my agenda today.”
I don’t get tongue-tied. I’m usually pretty cool around men, even. I’ve just never met one like this. He’s approximately six foot three. Thanks to his dive into the ocean, his boxers and black T-shirt are molded to his muscles. His arms are full of tattoos, just like his neck and throat.
“Do you speak or not?” he barks, snatching his discarded jeans off the shore.
As my adrenaline continues to plummet, humiliation takes its place. I’m a competent person. It’s the one reliable thing about me. I don’t need anyone’s help. I rely on myself and I don’t let myself down. But this man has just witnessed the opposite. He watched me flail around and nearly die because of a terrible decision. I can’t stand the thought of anyone witnessing such foolishness, but especially this guy, who seems like he could rob a golden statue from an Egyptian tomb and sword fight a mob on the way out.
With his unspoken question hanging in the air, my face is burning and my throat is prickling. I just had a near-death experience, to boot.
In other words, I need to get out of here before I cry.
I’ll find a way to pay Etta the money my father owes. Besides, I can already tell there will be no convincing this man to do anything, let alone return to work, as Etta wishes.
My knees are still wobbly and my arms feel like limp noodles, but I manage to rise to my feet, swaying, stumbling over to my clothes and picking them up. Bundling them to my chest, I walk away from Koen as quickly as humanly possible.
“Where are you going, Michael Phelps?”
Ouch. This guy is a dick.
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat has shrunk to the size of a pinhole.
I just keep walking, my pace picking up—
The world turns upside down as Koen rounds in front of me, drops his shoulder and throws me over it, backwards and face down. “Now you’re trying to get hypothermia?”
“Put me down.”
“Oh, wow. She can form words, after all.”
“Fuck you,” I snap at his wet boxer-clad butt. “How do you like those?”
His steps falter, ever so slightly. “Fuck me? I just saved your pathetic life.”
“If you’d let me catch my breath, I would have said thank you. But you decided to shout at me and call me an idiot, instead.”
When a moment passes and he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but I don’t dare hope it’s regretful. “Like I said, this is my beach. If you don’t like it, don’t come here.”
“A little late for that. Can you please put me down so I can go home and…” I realize we’re climbing up the steps that lead to his house and start to squirm “Oh no. You’re not bringing me into the Bat Cave. Not with that attitude!”
“Bat Cave?” he chokes.
What am I doing? My goal was to get inside this house, face to face with this man. Now that I have the opportunity, I’m trying to wiggle out of his arms and run for my life?