Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Then his dick. That long bulging vein that runs along it when he’s hard, the freckle at the base, and the heavy sac beneath…My God, he’s well-endowed and can maintain an erection for hours.
His hair would be a runner-up. The braids and knots holding back those thick, brown locks give ruggedly masculine Viking vibes. Delicious.
And his eyes. How can I forget that unique pairing of gold and blue? It’s like staring at the sun in a cerulean sky.
Oh, and his undying compulsion to take care of me. I never needed that in my life. Not until him. Now I can’t live without it.
When I think about those early days, about the hostility and tension between us, I don’t hate it. The bad parts had to happen so we could find our way here, to each other, to help us appreciate and treasure our hard-won love.
I’ll never take him for granted.
My hungry lion, my possessive Viking, my hot-headed lover, and coming soon…my cocky pilot.
He strips down to his snug thermal pants, his sculpted chest glistening in the amber light. An unholy vision of strength and beauty, even after working on the trail all day.
Strands of hair escape his knotted braids and hang in wild waves around his face, adding to his battle-ready allure. After weeks of strife and starvation, his body remains hard and chiseled, only it’s sharper now. Leaner. Honed like a blade.
As he prepares our dinner, I marvel at the way his hands deftly tend to the fire, the flex of muscle beneath his skin. The scar on his abdomen twists with his movements, reminding me of all he’s suffered.
Lost in my fixation, I realize I’ve been staring at him for what feels like hours. I could gaze upon him for eternity and never tire of his presence.
As if sensing my eyes, he looks up, a soft smile playing at the corners of his full lips.
Everything else fades away.
Without a word, he rises from his crouch and joins me on the sleeping bag. Pulling me onto his lap, he holds me close and nuzzles my neck.
The warmth of his love envelops me like a blanket. In his arms, I find solace, safety, and something I never dared to believe in. A mated soul.
The fire sizzles and pops, casting shadows on the walls. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent. Not the musky mechanic aroma that usually clings to him, but the drugging fragrance of snow and testosterone.
I press my nose against his carved chest and fall asleep, endlessly grateful that he’s here.
The next morning, I forget all about those soft, cozy feelings.
As I stand at the top of the icy trail, my pulse races, thudding loudly in my ears.
“This isn’t going to work!” I scream, my fists clenching at my sides.
The shy, uncertain sun offers a teasing peek of light as Leo maneuvers the snow machine into position at the bottom of the slope.
Climbing up here was cake. With my hand on the rope railing he built and his strong arm supporting my back, I reached the top without any missteps.
But this…
This is not the plan I envisioned.
He attached a daisy chain of ratchet straps to the front of the machine. The other end anchors to a stake at the top of the cliff.
The plan? He wants me to engage the ratchet mechanism and tighten the line as he drives up the steep incline.
With a full sled of coal and meat dragging behind him.
As if the straps will keep him from slipping and falling to his death.
I kick at the stake.
Ow! Fuck, that hurts!
Okay, it’s buried in solid ice, but still…
He’s crazy. Absolutely insane.
Every fiber of my being screams that this will end badly. The trail is treacherous, a narrow path up several stories of rock and ice, with the abyss yawning beside it, waiting to swallow anyone who falls off.
Him.
It’s going to swallow him.
He shouts something over the roar of the engine, gesturing for me to get ready.
“I don’t want any part of this!” I shout back, wildly waving my arms.
He lowers his goggles and revs the engine.
Fuck me.
My hands tremble as I reach for the ratchet, my eyes locked on his form as he hits the gas and begins the ascent.
Immediately, the snow machine slips and slides backward with too much slack in the line.
My shriek echoes off the icy walls, my heart plunging to my stomach.
I’m already fucking up.
He skids to a stop and stares up at the doomed path, at me, his eyes unreadable behind the goggles.
If he doesn’t trust me with this, I don’t blame him.
But in the space between us, there’s no accusation. There’s only love as my stomach squirms with dread.
I can’t lose him.
He looks pensive, his jaw clenched tight, the rest of his body relaxed.
Maybe he finally realized this is a terrible idea.