Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
The top stair creaked, and I snapped my eyes shut for several seconds. Peeking one open, I tracked Slade sauntering into the kitchen in nothing but boxer briefs. He filled a glass with water and drank it down. After flipping off the lights, he started back up the stairs.
“If I have to come back down and carry your ass up here, it’s not going to be gentle.”
Gulp …
I counted to ten to see if he by any chance was talking to Jericho, but the pooch didn’t budge, so I took a guess that he meant me. Ascending the stairs with patience and stealth, I peeked into his room, standing in the doorway. With his back against his solid wood headboard, he kept his gaze on his computer opened on his lap.
“You said I could sleep on the sofa.”
“And you can.” His fingers continued to move over the keyboard as his brow wrinkled a bit at the screen.
“But you just ordered me to sleep in your bed.”
“I didn’t. I ordered you up here … but there will be no sleeping anytime soon.” He closed his laptop and set it on the floor under his nightstand.
“What are you wearing?” He cocked his head to the side.
I glanced down at my tight, white tee and bikini cut panties. “Um … the closest thing I could find to pajamas.”
“I didn’t buy you pajamas.”
I returned my gaze to him. “Yeah, I saw that.”
“Then take that shit off.” He did it again. That barely detectable grin hiding just beneath the surface.
“I think your attitude is taking up too much space in the room. I’m going to sleep downstairs with Jerry.” I turned and headed toward the stairs.
“I missed you,” he said.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t desperate.
It was … life.
I paused at the top of the stairs.
“Jericho missed you too. But … not as much as I did.”
My brain hit pause, but my feet followed my heart’s lead and carried me back to his bedroom. As I took slow steps toward his bed, I shrugged off the tee and shimmied out of my panties before crawling up his body. His hands claimed my face, his lips claimed my mouth.
Our kiss ended slowly, but our mouths lingered a breath away from each other.
“Wylder … if you want this to be a one-night stand, you’re saying all the wrong things.”
He kissed me again … and again.
We spent the better part of the night becoming thoroughly acquainted with each other’s bodies. When the first rays of sun broke through, the pad of his finger traced my forearm. “How did you get this scar?”
Keeping my tired eyes closed, I hummed and smiled. “Surfing. Seven stitches. The morning of my high school graduation. My dad was livid. I wasn’t supposed to go out that morning. But …everyone was going.”
Wylder ran his lips along the scar. “Rebel.”
I giggled, peeling open my eyes as he moved down my body, grabbing my leg and bending it toward him.
“And this one?” His tongue traced the scar along my knee.
“Jellyfish. Ended up with a rash and I scratched the hell out of it. The scar is from the scratching more than the sting.”
His whiskers tickled my skin, and I wiggled away from his touch.
“This …” I ghosted my finger over his shoulder and the red scar still in its stages of healing. “Who shot you?”
He kissed up the inside of my thigh, well on his way to the perfect distraction, the perfect change in subject. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do. I want to know if I’m in danger. If you’re a bad person. A drug dealer. A serial killer. A collector of human body parts.” My fingers claimed his hair, and I steered him away from his destination, forcing him to look at me. “Wylder …” I murmured, scared to be with him, scared to be without him. Not every truth made sense, but it didn’t make it less true.
My truth—he saved my life.
He dropped his gaze to my stomach. “You’re not in danger.”
My fingers released his hair, and I closed my eyes as his mouth navigated up my body and his hand reached for another condom on the nightstand.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m not going to be here when your dad arrives.” Wylder set a key on the table and kissed the top of my head before whistling to Jericho.
“Oh thank god …” I covered my mouth, but it was too late.
He raised an eyebrow as he slid his wallet into his pocket and snatched his keys from the counter.
“I mean …” I sipped my tea to buy some time to formulate a better explanation. “I’m just not ready for you to meet him. He’s …” My nose scrunched. “Complicated.”
“He will hate me.”
Pressing my lips together, I nodded several times. “That too. Not because there’s anything wrong with you … or at least there’s not a lot that’s wrong with you. I mean …” I cringed. “I have no idea, and that’s why I’m not ready for you to meet him.”