Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
In an interesting development, I turn to find Ava Lane rushing toward me, her red hair floating in the wind like silk. Ava being Dr. Chin’s assistant, I can only assume she wishes to get me on board with imprisoning the GTECHs.
“Hi,” she says, breathless as she joins me. “I’m sorry to accost you, but I need your help.”
“Oh?” I say. “On what?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m hoping your father already has. Did you hear about the X2 lab incident?”
“Maybe.”
She laughs. “I get it. It’s classified, and you don’t say what you cannot. So I will just talk around this. One small lab study does not define a proper result. We should not make assumptions that are potentially wrong, cage hundreds of men, and turn them into prisoners. What if we underestimate them? And are we just going to cage them up for life, or will they exterminate them? I can’t be a part of that. I’m considering leaving, but then I think—what if I don’t fight for them?”
I breathe out, an uneasy feeling in my belly. I haven’t been sick since that mark appeared on my neck, but for an indescribable reason, I am now.”
“I’m a champion for the soldiers as well. I don’t want to see that happen. If you want, we can game plan on how to protect them. Maybe dinner tomorrow night?”
She studies me a moment that becomes two. “Is he going to imprison them? Because you know he did the marked couples?”
“He invited them to participate in a study.”
She gives a bitter laugh. “That’s what he told you. He lied. So yes, I think we should have dinner, but only if you can stop being so naïve about your father. In fact, I don’t think you can.” She whirls on me and walks away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I text Creed the minute I’m in my car, shaken by that encounter with Ava, but I think it’s just that me and secrets are not overly friendly. I lied to my father today when I told him about some note on my car. I pretty much lied to Ava about not knowing what she was talking about. I’m hiding the connection between me and Creed. Everything around me reads as lies and secrets. Ava clearly sensed I was disingenuous in some way.
I’m trembling when I pull into my driveway for no good reason other than maybe I just lifebonded with Creed today, and none of us really know what that means. I’m also disappointed when I can’t feel him nearby and he hasn’t replied to my text. Maybe he’s freaked out and shutting me out to protect me or himself. All I know is it’s weird that I can feel him when he’s near, that I literally feel him like a part of me. I don’t even know how I’d truly explain the sensation to someone else.
My hand trembles as I unlock my door and just as I push it open and set my stuff inside the rush of awareness happens. I whirl around and Creed is here, standing in front of me, so powerfully present.
The next thing I know, his fingers are diving into my hair and he’s kissing me. There’s this insane rage of passion between us and “rage” is the only word that fits. It’s all-consuming. It’s necessary. He backs me into the house and then he’s kicking the door shut, and I end up pressed against it.
The taste of him is like whiskey and wind but not that at all. I can’t describe it. It’s all so unfamiliar, but he tastes different than before, more addictive than ever, and yet intimately familiar.
We’re different than before, too.
He yanks open my blouse, buttons scattering everywhere, bouncing off the floor, and he shoves down my bra, exposing my nipples and pinching them with his fingers. I’m gasping as he suckles my lip and nips it with his teeth. I yelp with the erotic sting, but he’s already kissing me again, tugging my skirt up my hips, and my panties are dust in the wind, almost literally. He yanks them away, and I swear I’m going to need a panty budget with this man in my life, but it doesn’t matter. I just need him inside me.
We both reach for his pants, our hands and fingers colliding and it’s moments that feel like forever before his cock is free, and he’s pulled my leg to his hip, pressing inside me, and we’re fucking like wild animals. Only somehow, fucking is not just fucking. It’s like we’re one in our need. Like it’s the wildest lovemaking you could ever imagine and the dirtiest at the same time.
He's grinding into me, thrusting, and I’m clinging to him, and I couldn’t be wetter or hotter or more on edge. We are so in unison, so connected, that when I shatter, he groans, deep and low, and yes, there is that word again. In my mind everything about us is animalistic. Primal. When it’s over, we collapse into each other, our breaths heaving from our chests, merging together, filling the room with the aftermath of whatever that just was.