Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m going to check on her.” I stand and stalk toward the stairs.
The need to see her, to reassure myself that she’s safe, is a physical ache.
Monty and Leo rise as well, pocketing their phones and trailing after me.
We head upstairs, the house quiet and still. I push open the door to the guest bedroom, my heart pounding.
The bedside lamp casts a gentle glow on her stunning features. Deep in sleep, she looks so peaceful and untroubled.
Relief settles over me.
“Beautiful,” Leo whispers.
I grunt, spellbound.
Monty hovers in the doorway, wearing the stony expression of an overlord as we get ready for bed. As we prepare to sleep beside the woman he still considers his wife.
I strip down to my underwear, Leo doing the same.
We can shut him out and lock the door, but that would only lead to a brawl and disturb her rest.
She’ll be safe, sleeping between Leo and me. We’ll wake if anyone intrudes.
Careful not to disturb her, we slip in on either side of her. The warmth of her body instantly grounds me, her presence a balm to my frayed nerves.
“I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.” Monty steps back, his gaze glued to her, shadowed and turbulent with longing.
Then he turns away.
I shut off the light, and the room settles into heavy, tranquil quiet. I lie there, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.
The tension in my body slowly ebbs, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
“You all right?” Leo shifts, his hand brushing my ribs.
“Yeah. You?”
“I really want to fuck with him.”
“No.”
“Hear me out.” He angles his face toward mine on the pillow above her head, whispering, “Let’s pretend we’re jerking off. I’ll grunt and make slapping sounds loud enough for him to hear while you moan my name.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“We need to test him. Expose his true nature.”
“He won’t come in here for Mississippi seconds, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s not Denver.”
“Mississippi seconds?”
“Redneck family bonding.”
“What filthy corner of the Internet have you been haunting?”
I sigh as the shadows of our past press me into the mattress. “Despite how we feel about Monty, he has no interest in fucking men or children or family members. That’s not his kink.”
Frankie’s his kink. She’s all he cares about, and it’s not a healthy obsession.
The same could be said about our obsession with her.
“Go to sleep, dumbass.” I shove his face away.
He tries to shove back, but I see better than him in the dark and dodge him easily.
She doesn’t even stir.
We lie there, the three of us tangled in the warmth and intimacy of skin on skin. If heaven exists, this is it.
We made it through all the interviews without a hitch. I’ve been eating my weight in delicious food. There isn’t a constant, soul-sucking chill in the air, and I don’t have to leave the bed to throw a log on the fire.
Here, we don’t even need a fire.
Closing my eyes, I let my gratitude and contentment sink into my limbs. My last conscious thought circles around Frankie and the psychiatrist she wholeheartedly trusts. Maybe he can help her.
If he doesn’t, I’ll make him wish he never met her.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it comes.
Sometime later, in the quiet moments of the night, my eyes jolt open, adjusting to the absence of light.
The instinctual need to sit up hardens my muscles. Propping on an elbow, I find Leo already braced on his, rubbing his eyes.
Frankie lies on her stomach between us, one leg butterflied, her face scrunched in sleep.
A soft sound jerks my head to the door.
On the floor, Monty sits with his back to the doorframe and his head lolling to the side. Snoring.
We should’ve locked him out. Though he probably has a key.
Leo catches my eyes in the gloom.
Should we wake him? Or let him sleep like a dog on the floor?
The latter is the more satisfying option and the one Leo decides on as he burrows in against her and goes back to sleep.
Guess I’m taking the first watch.
17
Frankie
—
Two days later, I sit across from Dr. Doyle Whitaker, soaking in the sweet, apricot glow of the afternoon.
Oh, how I missed the warmth of sunshine on my face.
The private den makes an ideal spot for therapy, with its rich wood paneling and window views of the Sitka Sound.
Surprisingly, all three Strakh men decided to see Doyle as their therapist. I have suspicions about their easy cooperation, especially after Monty’s tantrum, but whatever.
Since Leo and Monty are still in the gym, they suggested that I take the first session.
Kody waits in the hall, probably leaning against the door with his supernatural senses on high alert. If a salty tear so much as leaves my eye, he’ll smell it and barge in.