Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I didn't count the number of men that entered and I didn't count the number of men that left so it would be easy for them. They'll never find his body, I think to myself as I pull open the door. I barely duck out of the way fast enough to keep the knife from slashing my face.
Chapter 28
Raya
My hand shakes as the sound of footsteps draws near. Nothing prepares me for the gasp that rushes out of my mouth when the door is tugged open. I lash out, the scalpel from Liam's first aid kit swiping through the air.
“Raya?” he asks, obviously astonished to see me crouched on the floor in the hidden room. He looks from me to the scalpel that’s still in my trembling hand. “Were you going to stab a federal agent?”
I can no longer hold back the sobs. Tears roll down my face in relief. I don't know why I hid. That's not true. I hid because I didn't want to leave. I hid because I didn't want him to get into trouble. It wouldn't be fair to punish him for the things he's done because I don't regret them.
Maybe I'm crazy. Anyone who heard the full details of everything that's happened, and then witnessed my reaction to knowing that people were coming to take me away, would call me insane. I feel a little crazy as I watch his eyes. The relief in them makes me sob harder.
“You're really here,” he says, as though he can't believe his eyes. He pulls me from the hole, the scalpel clinking on the floor.
I don't shy away from him. I don't think I would ever pull away from him ever again. He holds me to his chest, his breathing as erratic as mine is.
“I can't believe they didn't look in there,” he says.
“I can't either,” I say on a sob, burying my face into his neck. His touch feels better than I ever could have imagined. He pulls me back, but it's not to push me away. Both of his big strong hands cup the sides of my face, his eyes darting between mine before assessing the rest of my body. “I'm not hurt,” I tell him.
He swallows, the edges of his eyes turning red as if he's fighting back tears himself. I hate that he feels like he can't do that in front of me. He presses his lips to mine, and it's nothing like the soft brush of lips, like out on the porch.
Somehow, despite the connection that we share, and the experiences we’ve had over the last month, the kiss isn't sexual. It's grateful. It's full of surprise. It tastes like hope. But what can I possibly hope for? There's no chance at riding off into the sunset with this man. I can't just step out into the daylight and act like nothing happened.
There will be too many people with questions and I don't have the answers they're looking for. I'm not saying I don't ever want to go home, I just didn't want to be sent home like that. I didn't want to be dragged away or see him in handcuffs, see him suffer some sort of punishment.
The beginning of whatever this is, that has built between us over the last month, was rocky. I was fearful. I was afraid. I was terrified of the unknown, but that's not surprising. I've never been given the space or the opportunity to think or make choices on my own, and despite him taking so many choices from me, he was the first one to ever allow me any sort of power.
I moan at the first brush of his tongue against mine, clinging to him and pressing my body closer. It's better than I ever could have imagined. With the taste of him, the warmth of his skin against mine, my fear over everything that could happen, fades away. I'm burned for this man. I want everything he has to offer.
I whine, the petulant sound erupting out of my throat when he pulls back.
His eyes stay on my mouth as he speaks. “You have no fucking idea how bad I want this, Raya, but it can't happen.”
I deflate, my shoulders slumping forward. He wanted me to be found.
“Don't look at me like that,” he demands, his voice once again full of the authority that has become so familiar in the last month. “I want anything and everything you're willing to give to me, but we can't do this right now. We have to get out of here.”
“I know how ridiculous that is. I know that whoever those men were that came into this house aren't going to give up that easily just because they didn't find me. Crimes aren't solved that way.”
“Why didn't you let them know you were here?” he asks, as if he can't believe it.