Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Yeah, little doll. But that was before I fucked you. I’ve fucked you now. There will be no one else.”
Okay. This was exclusive. I wanted to throw my arms around him and pepper his face with kisses, but the savage darkness swirling in his narrowed eyes kept me from even moving. What had brought him to this mood? He was dealing with something in that head of his, and I didn’t know what.
“No one touches you,” he said, leaning in close before his tongue darted out and ran across the edge of my jaw. “Ever.” He moved to the other side and mimicked his action. “Just me. Always just me.” The raspy tone of his voice made me shiver as he licked at the corner of my mouth. “You understand, little doll?”
I nodded, struggling to breathe.
“Good,” he replied, straightening back up. “Let me give you a tour.”
I stared up at him, my breath uneven and my pulse racing. “Okay,” I managed to croak out.
There was so much I didn’t know about him. I was afraid to think about that. Especially when he threatened to kill. I wanted to think that was just a figure of speech. That he meant hurt badly. It was getting harder to think that way. He’d had a gun at the cabin within arm’s reach. Did he have one on him, like the others had that day? And why did they walk around, armed?
I glanced back at the cars in his garage. They were all expensive. I didn’t know much about cars or how much a new one costs. Especially ones that looked like this, but there was a lot of money in this garage alone. Not counting the house he lived in. Was there something to the rumors in this town? If so, wouldn’t he have told me? Wouldn’t I have seen some proof?
Or had I and just not taken it for what it was?
• Thirty-Eight •
I couldn’t let her get hurt. I wouldn’t survive that. No one would.
Thatcher
Watching her sleep in my bed, in my house, gave me more ease than the little comfort I’d gotten when I watched her at night in the small home I’d given her. She belonged here. I wanted her on expensive sheets, in clothing I bought for her, being pampered. She needed a bikini. One for my eyes only. I wanted to see her lying out by my pool.
She yawned and stretched, turning in bed. I took a drink from my coffee and grinned.
She’d talked last night. It was entertaining as fuck to listen to her rattle on in her sleep. For the most part, it was words that made no sense strung together. She’d said brush, freezer, and furlong last night in one breath. Sometimes, she’d make a normal sentence. It was rare.
I’d expected her to say something more about my not wanting her on Zephyr last night, but she hadn’t brought it up. I didn’t know if I was relieved or not. People were careful around me. Even those closest to me didn’t cross lines. I could see the uncertainty in their eyes when they looked at me.
I didn’t want that with Capri. The thought of her seeing me like the others, like my mother did, having any fear where I was concerned knotted up my fucking chest so tight that I wanted to hurt something. I didn’t care what others thought of me or how they saw me. Hell, most of the time, I liked it. They were right to be cautious. Especially if Capri was around. It was the only time I could turn into someone or something else. Take a life without hesitation. It was her others should be careful around. If she was happy, then I was fine.
When she’d looked into my eyes at one of my darkest moments, she’d seen the demons. The realization in her expression as she read the darkness inside me for what it was caused me a moment of panic. I thought she’d run from me. But she didn’t. Instead, she’d immediately tried to ease me. Comfort me. No one had ever tried that. Sure, women had swallowed my cock before to calm me down, but that had just given me a sexual release. It had been nothing more than fleeting pleasure.
Capri truly gave a shit. I’d not expected that from her. All these years of making sure she was safe, watching her because I couldn’t seem to stay away, it wasn’t because I’d believed she would be different. It was because of that moment when she’d looked into my eyes the first time and I had felt something kick. Come to life like a flame had been lit. Blowing it off was impossible. Just like forgetting it had been.
In the five years after I’d killed a man for touching her, I’d convinced myself I’d imagined it. Whatever it was that she stirred inside me. She had been an awkward kid. A fucking minister’s daughter. Going to see her again just to close that door and find that there was nothing there, that I’d just had a twisted moment and snapped a man’s neck, hadn’t gone as planned.