Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
What do I want?
Do I want to give up on this case I’ve become invested in? No.
Do I want to walk away from my acquaintance with this man leaving things undone?
No. If it was up to me, we would go back to his motel room this very second. There is a wealth of physical urges inside of me that I strongly suspect can only be tapped by Myles. Yes, I’m afraid of going home never having experienced them. But at the same time, I don’t want to be a distraction to him. This man houses a lot of pain. He lashes out to hide it. And maybe I’m too soft in nature, but I can’t stop wanting to help. As much as I want to prove to myself that I’m brave and viable, I also want Myles to realize he had one bad case back in Boston. That doesn’t mean he has to walk away from his whole life. A career that he’s obviously meant for.
Bottom line, he’s holding me at a distance for a reason. I have to respect that.
But he’s right. I’m stubborn.
I’ve wanted to help solve Oscar Stanley’s murder since the beginning. To solve the puzzle and in the process, prove I’m more than just play it safe Taylor. Now I have the added wish to be of some assistance to Myles.
Whether he likes it or not.
Whether he knows it or not.
“Are you coming for burritos?”
“Yes,” he growls, turning from the ocean and storming past me.
I smile at his back and follow. “I was thinking…”
“Jesus, here we go.”
“Nothing bad. I just need some new reading material. And since you’re so determined to babysit me, I was hoping to tag along into town with you this morning?” He stops abruptly when we reach the street, steadying me when I stumble. Eyeing me suspiciously.
I’m the very picture of guileless. Outwardly, at least.
“I just want to browse the library.”
He’s not buying it. “You’re sure that’s all you have planned?”
“I mean…” Needing to distract him, I smooth a palm up the center of his pecs and he gives an audible swallow, watching my hand as it moves upward, then back down in the direction of his belt buckle. “If you want to revisit the parking lot, I won’t object.”
“Taylor,” he rasps, grasping my wrist, holding it away while he gets his breathing back under control. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart.”
I pull my hand away, pretending his rejection doesn’t make my throat hurt. Not when I grasp his purpose and sympathize with it. “Will you let me tag along or not?”
“Of course I will.”
“Good.” I force a smile onto my face, even as his rebuff continues to sting. It’s rejection my brain understands, but my heart doesn’t want to accept. “Let’s eat.”
He stands still in the middle of the road for another few seconds, a vein ticking in his temple, until he eventually follows.
Chapter 14
Myles
What am I going to do about this woman?
Taylor leans down to refill my coffee mug and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to take the pot out of her hand, set it down and pull her into my lap. In fact, I’m pretty goddamn positive it would feel like the most natural thing in the world. And the more I begin to admit things like this to myself, the more determined I am to keep my hands off of her.
When we first met, I decided she was the relationship type, the settling down kind.
Not for me.
She was not for me.
Then she throws me the rough sex curveball and I think, maybe…maybe I could give in and show her how it’s done.
She proceeded to show me how it’s done, instead.
Rougher. More.
Pretend it’s you.
She’s ruining me with her mouth and her trust and her apple-scented skin. I can’t sleep or think straight, let alone focus on this case. And now…now that I overheard what she said about me on the beach, I’m exposed. I’m worrying about her feelings like it’s my fucking job. I want to be the man she thinks I am. Maybe I always have been and I hadn’t met the right woman for me yet. Maybe I’ve just been running so long I can’t see myself clearly anymore. But when she smiles at me…I do. Or I start trying to see him.
I don’t want to try, though. I’ve gone down the path of attempting to be good and noble and heroic and it turned out I was meant to be the villain. Being the villain has been easier than facing the past—and I never should have taken this case, either, because deep down, there is hope germinating. Hope that I can move forward from what happened. Taylor is watering that hope, giving it sunlight. But moving past what happened to that kid…no. No, I won’t be absolved. I won’t excuse my actions by letting go.