Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I guess that makes it better, but a tomato is still a tomato, no matter what you do with it. He still hurts people, and while they might be bad people themselves, I’m certain somewhere along the line an innocent life has been tangled up in that.
“What if you got it wrong?” I ask, shivering slightly in the cold.
“It’s happened, but I would never intentionally hurt someone innocent, and I’d never, not fuckin’ ever, lay a hand on my woman.”
Maybe, but other women?
I can’t seem to find fault with his words, I know it’s my messed-up mind, but here we are. There is just something about the way he has taken me on, purely because he can see right through me, that tells me he is passionate about what he’s saying. He might be a bad man, but he wouldn’t hurt the woman he loves, and I admire that. It also makes me feel a lot more secure about Hope’s future.
“Now,” he growls, low, blowing a puff of smoke from between his lips, “stop deflectin’ and tell me why you’re with this man when he does nothin’ but abuse you.”
I stare down at my hands.
Oh, if only it were that easy.
“Because if I leave, he will kill me.”
My voice is soft, and with the wind blowing around us, it’s barely able to be heard. That doesn’t stop Fury from picking up every damned word. I shouldn’t be saying this, I don’t know what has gotten over me, but I can’t seem to help myself. I want to tell him, everything inside me is begging me to just let him know the entire truth. It’s terrifying, because I’ve never found a single person in my life that I’ve wanted to share this with.
“Not if I kill him first.”
Fury’s voice is razor sharp.
I snap my head up. “No.”
“He is an abusive prick, why the fuck would you want him walkin’ on this earth for a single second longer?”
“Because unlike you, I couldn’t live with myself. Death might be something that you can dust off, but it isn’t for me. The guilt would consume me.”
Fury ponders this, then shifts a little closer, reaching for my chin and taking it between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my head up slightly. “There are other ways to bring someone down.”
His words send a shiver up my spine.
But he doesn’t know the entire truth.
If he did, he would know there is simply no way out.
“I ...”
I need to end this conversation, right now.
“I should go.”
Here I go, running again.
Pushing to my feet, he is forced to drop his hand. I place the beer down and turn, but he’s quicker than me. He steps in front of me, already smart enough to know that grabbing me suddenly isn’t something I’m a fan of. He’s smart, but mostly, he cares enough not to. That makes this so much harder, because Fury is giving me a glance of what a different man might be like, a man that is loving and strong, and it’s killing me little by little.
I want that, so desperately, and the more time I spend with him, the more I’m reminded of the bitter disappointment that it will never happen.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice shaky, “just let me go.”
“You came to me tonight,” he murmurs, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It has me shivering with feelings that I’m struggling to control. “Why.”
It’s not a question, more a demand.
“I just ... I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough. Answer the question.”
“I don’t know, Fury,” I say, my voice high pitched and frantic. “What do you want from me?”
“Why, Alexis?” he pushes.
I throw my hands up, shaking my head from side to side as I take a step back. “Because you make me feel safe. Dammit, Fury, because you make me feel a little less scared in my miserable fucking life.”
He’s in front of me again in a second, his hand going up and curling around the back of my neck gently as he pulls me closer until our lips are so damned close I can taste him.
“Please don’t kiss me,” I whimper, my knees weak. “I’ll never be able to stop.”
“Then don’t,” he growls, closing the gap.
His lips are soft to begin with, closing over mine and gently coaxing them open. His beard is scratchy against my cheeks, and I’m fully aware of every single inch of him that is touching me. From his hand around my neck, to the one on my lower back or the way his hard form presses against my soft one, every ridge like a chiseled statue. He smells of leather and beer, and that cologne that I will never stop thinking about.
I whimper, in my pathetic attempt at a protest, but he keeps coaxing, his tongue sliding along my bottom lip, just begging it to join in. His mouth is gently moving over mine, and I can’t fight it any longer. I respond, kissing him back with a hunger that I have kept hidden in the very depths of myself for so long. A hunger that is almost frantic as my fingers curl into his leather jacket in an attempt to bring him closer, kissing him with everything I have.