Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
He would have hated my room. I was far from tidy. My bed was more often than not unmade, my walls were covered with pictures, places I wanted to go, snaps of Arianne and me, and a couple of me and the boys from the club. It was full of knick-knacks, shit that didn’t serve a purpose but looked cute. I wanted my personality to bleed into my home, wanted it to reflect me. Hansen obviously didn’t agree with that decorating idea.
What felt like seconds later, he appeared with a little torch and one of his hands rested gentled at the side of my head.
“Gonna shine this in your eyes, babe,” he told me in a brisk tone.
I squinted slightly at the light. Then I did as he instructed, looking various ways.
He clicked it off, seeming satisfied. His eyes still held a note of concern.
“You feeling sick? Any numbness?” he asked, his voice brisk.
I shook my head, remembering Hansen’s history as a medic in the military.
“Okay, good. You tell me if you start feeling either of those things,” he said firmly.
I nodded again.
“You tired?” he asked.
I took stock of myself, then glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was just after ten. I was a night owl, so this was seriously early for me, but the knock on the head had me quite drowsy.
“Not really,” I lied, not wanting to waste my time in what I deduced was Hansen’s bed unconscious.
He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me but didn’t say anything. He moved to grab a remote then turned on the flat screen across the room. It was big, like the one in his living room.
“Got movies and shit on here,” he told me gruffly.
Then, because it seemed like his goal of the night was to shake an already shaken brain, he lifted me and moved me slightly so he could lie on the bed and tuck me into his shoulder.
I stared at the cords of his neck in amazement.
I was snuggling… with Hansen… on his bed… watching movies! Granted I was suffering from a head injury, but that didn’t matter hugely at that moment.
“Babe…” he muttered, flicking through the channels, “…eyes required to be on the screen to pick a movie.”
I kept staring, imprinting this moment into my memory. “I think I’m happy with where my eyes are right now,” I whispered, deciding a head injury took away what little filter I had. And any sense of self-preservation.
His body tightened. His eyes didn’t move from the screen. “Macy. You’re hurt. Which means, as much as I would like to do otherwise, only thing we can do right now is watch a movie. So pick a fuckin’ movie,” he said tightly.
His voice was harsh but the meaning behind it wasn’t. My stomach jumped and with effort, I tore my gaze away from his handsome face and proceeded to pick a movie. One that Hansen groaned and teased me about, but watched nonetheless. I wouldn’t know how much he actually watched, considering I passed out in the first fifteen minutes, despite my efforts to suck as much time out of this moment as I could.
I woke up feeling warm. Really warm. That was because I was quite literally tangled up with Hansen. I blinked a couple of times, just to make sure I wasn’t in some super realistic, superbly amazing, yet PG fantasy. Nope. This was real. I was actually half lying on his chest, my leg draped over his thighs. His corded arms were tightly coiled around my shoulder and waist. He did literally smell like a delicious mix of sexy and masculine.
My shoes and kimono had been taken off at some point during the night and I was only in my shorts and cami.
I ignored the pounding in my skull. I’d take twelve rounds with Tyson if this was what I got in return. My eyes trailed across his chest, which was bare.
I repeat—bare.
His pecs were defined like they’d been sculpted out of clay and his chest was positively the best I’d ever laid eyes on. It was also devoid of tattoos, apart from one over the top of his heart, the words ‘Semper Fidelis’ scrawled over the top of a cross and dagger. I frowned at a scar on his chest, then moved my gaze. His shoulders were naked of ink also, which I was glad of. Who needed to ink over muscled perfection?
I moved up slightly so I could look over his sleeping face. With the relaxation of slumber, his normally tight face was soft and blank. I lifted up, unable to help myself, touching my lips to his softly. Even if this was the only moment I got, I was going to make sure I made the most of it. My movement caused his body to tighten and his arms moved so I was positioned entirely on top of him, his hard-on pressing into me. Desire pooled in my stomach. My lips, which were positioned close-mouthed on his, were suddenly set on fire. His mouth moved with mine, moving past the tender peck I’d intended, to a full on kiss. It was a kiss that I’d been imagining, dreaming of, ever since he’d given me a taste a week ago. One that seemed to surpass every one of my expectations and go right up there with Leo and Kate as one of the best kisses in history.
He abruptly disengaged, and his face turned tight. His eyes were flaming with desire, but his jaw hardened and his neck pulsed with restraint.
“You’re hurt,” he clipped, his voice rough.
“I’m fine,” I protested, leaning forward. I’d have to be bleeding from a stab wound to not capitalize on the fact he had seemed to forget about the fact he wasn’t interested in me. I would regret it later when he finally dropped me, but I was all about instant gratification.
He held my head gently, but putting enough pressure so my lips couldn’t meet his.
“You’re testing every inch of my restraint right now, Mace. And I’ll tell you, it’s almost in fuckin’ tatters after only tasting that mouth once in the year I’ve been dreaming about it,” he growled. “And it tastes a fuck of a lot sweeter than I remember.” His eyes darkened. “I remember honey, baby.”