Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
And lost.
Broken.
So broken.
I must have been staring for too long because Theo tried to escape my gentle grip.
“It’s me or the hospital, Theo. And honestly, even if you pick me, I’m not going to make any promises I can’t keep.” I glanced at his injured arm and just as I’d expected, blood was beginning to seep through the material of his sweatshirt. “Based on what I’m seeing, that arm you’re trying to keep hidden is infected… badly enough that you’re running a fever because of it. Sepsis is next and that’s nothing to mess around with. If I think for even a second that you’ve crossed that line, I’ll wake up this entire fucking house if it means getting you to a hospital even a minute faster. So make a decision, Theo, and do it quick because your pride or fear or whatever the fuck got you into this position can’t help you anymore.”
I held his gaze for a long moment before softening my voice and adding, “Me or the hospital, sweetheart. What’s it going to be?”
CHAPTER TWO
THEO
One word.
One syllable.
So simple and yet so fucking hard too.
I knew the man wasn’t messing around. He’d do exactly what he’d threatened and wake up the entire household in the process of getting me medical attention. Fuck, why the hell had Ford put me in a room next to the handsome nurse?
Moreover, why hadn’t I just proceeded with my plan to leave the house after giving everyone enough time to retire to their rooms? Dealing with my arm could have waited until I’d gotten far away from the too-observant male nurse who hadn’t been part of the plan.
Plan? What plan, Theo?
I almost laughed out loud because it was sad but true. Any plans I’d previously had went up in smoke when I’d returned to my shitty apartment after a quick run to the corner store only to find a huge padlock on my door along with an eviction notice; one of many that I’d pretended not to see the few times I’d needed to leave my apartment.
My so-called planning had left me standing on the curb outside my building with only a small duffel bag containing the few clothes and personal items I’d managed to collect after bribing the building manager with fifty bucks to let me back into my apartment long enough to gather some of my things. Even now, I wanted to cry over the loss of my books. They’d been the only thing of true value to me, and yet I’d had to leave every single one behind because there’d been no room in my bag for something as foolish as a temporary escape from my life when I’d needed to make an actual one.
I refused to let any more tears fall… especially useless tears that were a result of mere emotion. I’d only cried in the bathroom before Lincoln had found me because I’d banged my arm as I’d been trying to deal with a dizzy spell. Tears of pain weren’t ideal, either, but at least they served a purpose.
Though in this case, the wrong purpose.
I most certainly hadn’t planned for them to bring a quasi-knight-in-shining-armor—no, boxer shorts—to my rescue.
The reminder that I was still pressed up against Lincoln’s very warm chest had me pulling back enough to put some space between us. His fingers were still holding my chin, but I could have easily escaped his grip.
I couldn’t say the same about his pretty eyes, though.
They had me completely ensnared.
For all the wrong reasons.
As muddled as my mind was, I still couldn’t get past how sinfully beautiful the man was. With his sun-kissed hair that fell in soft curls to nearly his shoulders and intense blue eyes, he looked like he belonged on a surfboard riding a huge wave in an ocean that was his to command.
“Theo,” I heard him say. I saw his lips move but there was a weird delay, so I couldn’t even really be sure that he’d spoken my name. I was probably just hearing an echo of when he’d said my name earlier in the day.
At the time, I’d had this image of what it would be like to have the larger man’s body covering mine as he spoke the two little syllables that made up my name. I’d pictured him gripping my face and looking at me like he couldn’t believe I was there with him. I’d been gripping him just as hard with just as much disbelief, though my fingers had been digging into his back while I’d opened my legs even wider so our lower bodies would be mashed together—
“Theo,” Lincoln said again, though his tone was more of a command than the plea it had been in my dream. I was effectively yanked from my poorly timed walk down imagination lane. Unfortunately, my brain and mouth weren’t working in tandem.