Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Maybe I should torture you…”
With a sudden move, he twists and pulls me onto his lap. “Little seductress. Trying to change my mind with your wiles?”
“It it working?” I wriggle in his lap. “Feels like it.” His boner is the size of a tree. There’s so much good here. I don’t want to let Adam or anyone else to ruin it.
He lets me grind on his lap for about a second longer, then maneuvers me until I’m flat on my back with his big body caging me. My pussy is sopping, my breath coming in pants, ready for his claiming, but he stills.
“Daphne, I can’t change who I am.” He says, echoing my thoughts. His eyes search mine, pleading.
I know what he’s saying. He can’t give up his revenge. He won’t. Not even for me? asks little voice in my head. But that’s not fair. I’m not in his shoes and I can’t fathom going through what he went through at Adam’s hands.
So I give a tiny nod. As long as we’re together and none of his actions involve him being taken from me? I’m on his side, always. He sighs and hugs me, holding his body off me so I’m not crushed. I kiss his neck. Maybe he’s not ready to forgive and forget, like I am, but baby steps.
Holding each other like this inevitably leads us back to the—now broken, but when has that ever stopped anyone—bed. His touch drives me insane. I can’t get enough.
When we’re done making love for the third time, he tests the faucet for hot water. With a steaming face cloth he wipes down my body carefully. He pays special attention to my breasts.
“You took the piercings out.” He sounds sad.
“I didn’t think I could prevent infection in my homeless state. You can re-pierce them.”
“No.” He drops the washcloth. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“You won’t. I’ll take the thorns with the roses, remember?”
He leans in to kiss me. When our lips part, he presents me with a perfect red rose. “Your rose with thorns.”
I grasp the stem. My cheeks are sore from smiling so hard. This love story isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. And that sorta makes it perfect.
I bring the bloom to my face and inhale. “There. That scent. My mother’s perfume, my past and future all rolled into one. It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Logan says, but he’s looking at me. My heart swells.
“I love you, Logan Wulfe.”
He smiles, that rakish carefree grin that I love so much. “I love you, t—” he starts to say but then his expression suddenly changes. “Daphne,” he rasps, fear etched into the lines on his brow, around his eyes. He reaches out to touch my face, but I beat him to it.
Something wet is trickling from my nose.
I frown. What on ear— My fingers are red when they come away. Blood drips on my palm. Oh shit. The bottom drops out and suddenly I’m sinking, sinking—
Logan rips his white dress shirt and hands me a makeshift handkerchief to press to my nose. His big hand covers my forehead.
“No fever. Just a nosebleed?” His eyebrows pinch together but he doesn’t look too concerned.
“It’s not just a nosebleed,” I close my eyes, wishing I could stop time. No, no no no.
It’s not fair. Not when I just found him. Not when we just found this, here together.
“Then what? Daphne, what’s happening? My gods, I need to call an ambulance.” He starts to rise and I catch his arm. I’m weak, so much weaker than him, but he stills at my butterfly light touch.
“No, Logan. No ambulance. Just...stay with me. One minute longer.” I throw my arms around him, wishing I could go back to that perfect moment, that single second when I had it all before the gods stripped it all away.
“Daphne, please,” Logan eases me back. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you sick?”
“I’m sick, Logan. I’ve always been sick. The disease is in my blood.”
Horrified awareness dawns on his face as I swallow and pronounce my death sentence.
“I have Battleman’s. And it’s back.”