Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Axle,” I groan, exasperated.
I focus on my frustration instead of all the things my heart is trying to do.
He gently places me on the bed, like he’s worried I’m a piece of glass and will shatter at any moment. The soft gesture is only temporarily distracting.
His shirt being tugged over his head is a little more distracting as he tosses it aside. I notice the blood on it, so don’t ask what he’s doing as he stalks back out and says something about a sandwich I think.
Talk about random.
Then he’s back in, leaning against the door as he stares at me in that old familiar way.
“As much as I appreciate you risking your life to come save me, I still can’t stay here until you suddenly remember how dangerous it is—”
“You’re not safer in New York,” he interrupts. “We’re raising hell, reclaiming the fear we instill that people seem to have forgotten about. It’s only a matter of time before we finally kill Herrin.”
My brow furrows. “What does this—”
“You’re staying here, Maya. You said yourself that you didn’t have to be in New York, and it’s proven that it’s not safe for you. Someone can get to you too easily.”
He pushes away from the door, undoing his jeans as he comes to me. The door opens before he gets them pushed down.
Colleen steps in with a plate and a sandwich, and my stomach growls as if it’s calling dibs. Axle smirks like he expected that, and Colleen hands me the sandwich that I can’t refuse.
“Thank you,” I mumble around a mouthful, and she smiles tightly at me.
She deliberately avoids looking at his back as she walks out and shuts the door behind her. Axle drops his jeans the second she’s out, and I shake my head.
“No sex for me. I’m too sore. And I need to be leaving,” I tell him, biting another piece of the sandwich and telling myself to eat slowly so I don’t get sick. “Right after I finish this.”
His lips twitch as he climbs into the bed beside me, careful not to jostle it too much. Meanwhile, I eat like a starving lady.
When he leans over, my breath catches and the mouthful of food stops getting chewed, because his lips skim the side of my neck.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just under my jaw.
I almost shiver. Almost.
“Axle, I have to—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says again, a little more forcefully this time as he kisses his way down the column of my throat.
I swallow painfully at the barely chewed food, putting my plate in my lap as I tilt my head to the side.
“See, I’m keeping you whether you want to stay or not. Because I’m not going to be able to be that far away now that I know you’re not safe there,” he goes on, his words not as seductive as his tone as he kisses another spot on my neck.
A small sigh passes through my lips as he drags his lips up my neck, nipping my ear when he reaches it. “And I don’t do well with fear. I hate it. It doesn’t have any room in my life, but apparently I’m going to fear losing you no matter where you are. I’d rather you be here so I can at least put myself out of my misery when I’ve got you in my bed.”
I feel his smile against my neck, and it stupidly infects me, forcing my lips to reluctantly mimic the same motion.
“If I stay, you can’t kick me out again,” I say when he just continues to kiss my neck, trying to soften me to his will.
“I’ll have you chained to my side as often as possible,” he says as though that’s a perfectly acceptable response.
I roll my eyes, wishing my lips weren’t so sore. Or that I had a toothbrush.
He sticks to my neck though, so that keeps me from worrying about the latter.
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re crazy or romantic,” I murmur absently.
“Both,” he deadpans without hesitation. “It’s a side effect of loving a girl who likes tiny condiment bottles as collectibles and skates when she’s waiting on a death tally.”
My grin crawls up, but then it falls immediately as his words sink in. He draws back, eyes intense as he studies mine.
“Tiny condiment bottles are a perfect collectible,” I state flatly, my heart still thundering in my ears as he slowly smiles that devastatingly perfect smile so few get to see.
His gaze flicks to my lips, and I start worrying about that toothbrush again. He stops himself from kissing me, his eyes probably assessing the damage there.
“Are you staying?” he asks, his gaze flicking back up to mine.
“Are you really giving me a choice?” I muse.
His smile only grows. “No.”
“Then why bother asking?” I ask on a mock sigh of frustration, though I can’t stop the smile that spreads again. “Besides, Mr. Surly just said he loved me. I suppose I need to stick around so I can taunt you for it.”