Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
“What does?”
“A care-taking streak.” He gestures to his battered face. “You saw my fight, and here you are trying to patch me up.”
What else am I supposed to do when someone’s bleeding in front of me? “Or maybe you just seem like a nice guy.”
“I’m not.” This time his smile doesn’t hold any humor. “So if I seem like one to you, the men you know must be real assholes.”
I huff out a laugh. “You have no idea.”
“You want to tell me about it?” His voice deepens, his gaze steady on my face. “I’m real good at making trouble go away.”
Oh god. My heart twists up so tight. Because I wanted just one person who would help, before realizing I would have to be that person. But here this man—a complete stranger to me—is offering to make my trouble go away.
And he’s the one person who can’t help me. Because he needs my help.
I’ll be killed for this. But I’m suddenly glad that this man—Stone—is the one I have to die for. That it’s not someone like Tusk or Papa.
So I force a smile though my entire chest is aching, and continue flirting. “You look like you’re really good at causing trouble, too.”
“Guilty,” he admits. “So is that why you came over? Looking for someone to cause trouble?”
“No. Just…looking for someone who takes good care of his dog.”
“How do you know I do?”
“Because you’re trying to take care of me.”
“Well, fuck.” His big hand cups my cheek, his gaze searching mine. “That sounds like you don’t expect anyone to treat you better than a dog.”
I try for a bright smile and am pretty sure I fail miserably. “I’m just glad it was you who I ran into.”
“Yeah, girl.” His thumb rubs the wavering curve of my bottom lip. “I’m glad you did, too.”
And he kisses me. Just lowers his head and kisses me. In a crowded bar, with a million people around us, and while my head is filled with thoughts of saving him and dying painfully. I’m uncomprehending at first, eyes wide open and staring into the blurry image of his too-close face, while his firm lips brush over mine, back and forth. Gently. Not taking. Just teasing.
Or maybe soothing. Because the crowd fades away, and so does any thought of Victor, or dying, or the horrible reason I’m here. There’s just Stone, kissing me so tenderly. As if he thinks a harder kiss will break me.
It won’t. After all that I’ve been through, how could a kiss break me?
But maybe Stone’s kindness will. His offer to help me. Because suddenly, I want this kiss. I want to feel something sweet and good before I die.
And this is so sweet. And he’s so good.
My eyelids fall closed, shutting out everything but Stone. I say his name against his lips before fisting my hands in his flannel shirt and dragging him closer. A sigh of pleasure escapes me when his mouth coaxes mine open. Still tender, but not holding back now. He tastes like peppermint and the faintest coppery tinge of blood, his tongue slicking over mine in a way that makes a shiver race over every inch of my skin.
“Fuck.” The curse is nearly a growl as he breaks away, then comes back in to nip my bottom lip. “How the fuck are you even real? Looking like you do, but kissing like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve never been kissed by someone who wants you.” His long fingers tighten around my nape and he tips my head back, his gaze scouring my face. “Like you need to be kissed by a man who’s dying to get inside you. Do you?”
Breathlessly I nod. “Yes.”
God, yes. Because Stone takes my mouth again, and if this is how a man kisses when he means it, I don’t ever want to do anything but this, don’t ever want to feel anything but this. As if he’s consuming me with every hot stroke of his tongue, as if there’s nothing else in the world for him, either. No bar, no fight, no pain. Nothing but me, and his need for me.
His hand grips my ass and he drags me to the edge of the stool, his hips forcing my thighs wide. And oh god. God. He’s big and hard and when was the last time I felt like this? Fumbling around in the backseat of a car when I was sixteen? Dry humping a guy at a frat party? I remember the excitement of those encounters, the frantic heat, the wonderful sense that there was so much more to come, so much to look forward to. My entire life seems as if it’s been divided into before and after the Cage, and not once in the after has my blood surged hot, not once has sex been about pleasure but instead a horrible and frightening inevitability. Not something to look forward to.