Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
My pulse spikes as I try to decipher this shit. “Are you…?” My face twists in agonized thought. “Are you saying that you came onto my boyfriend?”
There’s no way in hell that can be right.
Rowin avoids my gaze. “Like I said, I misread the signals.”
I explode forward. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I yell between my teeth.
SFO yells over one another, trying to separate me from Rowin before we even collide. My ex stumbles back and holds up a hand in surrender.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I sneer and shrug off my friends that try to restrain me, and I glare at Donnelly. “Let go.”
He does.
They all do.
Claws may as well be shredding my entire body and heart and skull. I don’t know what Rowin did exactly, if he threw out a pickup line or…I can’t imagine…
I rub my mouth and take a deeper breath. I center my emotion on something productive. Bile burns the back of my throat, and everything inside of me is screaming to find Maximoff. Adrenaline ramped, pulse beating in my eardrums.
Find him.
I push past SFO and hawk-eye the sliding glass door, about to go inside. Four steps there, I change course. Instinct propels me, and I swerve onto Rowin. In one swift move, I twist his shirt in two white-knuckled fists and slam his back up against the glass.
“If I find out you touched him, I will kill you,” I threaten.
Rowin is only looking at SFO behind me. He’s waiting for the six guys to come to his aid. But not a single one moves. None of them save him. None of them want to.
Because they’re not his friends.
They’re mine.
And they know he’s a piece of fucking shit. I release my grip because I see a figure through the glass. Inside the saloon, Maximoff just steps off the winding staircase.
“Akara,” I say, but he immediately detains Rowin before I ask. Pulling him far, far away from the entrance to the saloon.
I waste no more time.
I go inside.
“Maximoff,” I call out, quickly sliding the door shut. He’s in almost no clothing. A skin-tight swimsuit cut like boxer-briefs—if Rowin touched him…
My nose flares, and I realize that Maximoff is on a fucking mission. Storming past the interior cocktail bar with stoicism and purpose, he gestures behind me and asks, “Is Rowin out there?”
I rapidly sweep his sharpened features. “What happened?” I don’t move away from this door because wolf scout is coming in hot. He has one sole focus. And it’s not on me right now.
“We need to get Rowin off this yacht. We can toss his suitcase in the sea for all I fucking care, but he needs out of here.” He fixates on the door.
“SFO have him—” I cut myself off and sidestep before Maximoff passes me. I block him with my build.
“Farrow.” His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Look at me, look at me,” I breathe, our chests an inch apart, and as soon as I capture his attention, I say, “You need to tell me what happened, Maximoff.”
He blinks, eyes completely bloodshot. “Rowin trapped me against a door, but he didn’t put his hands on me. I shoved him off. That’s it.”
I almost rock back, like I’ve been sucker-punched. “He trapped you…against a door?” I picture it, and my chest just collapses. I reach out to hold Maximoff. To touch him, but I wait for the confirmation.
He nods repeatedly.
Over and over.
We draw together. Chest to chest. His arms weave across my back, his rigid body not slackening. And I feel his pulse racing.
I whisper against his ear, “You’re safe, wolf scout.” I kiss his jaw, and he grips my neck with a shuddered breath.
“Fuck,” Maximoff growls, pinching his eyes. He buries his face in the crook of my neck. And he screams. An angered, tormented noise barrels out of him. All this caged emotion is muffled against my shoulder and neck—and I hold him. Fuck, I’m not letting go.
I clutch him more securely. So he feels like nothing and no one will breach this embrace.
My pulse thumps hard, and his hot involuntary tears soak my skin.
I whisper in his ear. Until he eases, and his breath matches my breath. It takes minutes. Not seconds, but actual minutes. I would’ve stood here like this for hours if he needed me to.
And when he raises his head, rubbing the corners of his reddened eyes—he sees the wet deck through the glass.
His face drops. “Did it rain?”
Maximoff.
I tell him I wasn’t alone. I tell him that I love him. I tell him not to worry because I’m not worried about it, and he lets me hold more of his weight.
Earlier today when Maximoff said that he didn’t like Rowin being onboard—because he feared for my safety—I should’ve taken that into account more. I just brushed it off because I thought Rowin would only antagonize me. Not him.