Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
“Fine. But she’s a bit skittish around strangers.”
That’s all he says in way of warning before he nods toward the stairs. I take them one at a time. When I reach the top, I see a door and hear something that sounds like crying.
I move toward the door and stand outside, pressing my ear to it. There’s a sniffle, and then another small cry escapes. I ball my fists at my side, thinking that he must have done something to make her feel this way. That piece of shit father of hers had better not have lain a fucking hand on her or I’ll rip off his fingers.
I take a calming breath and knock softly on the door.
“Jasmine. I’m Ash.” I wait a moment and hear her cries quiet. “Open the door, sweetheart.”
There’s a pause, followed by what sound like soft footsteps.
“It’s okay. I’m here to save you.”
5
Jasmine
I stare up at the grayest eyes I’ve ever seen. His words sink in, yet they make no sense. For some reason he looks familiar, like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place it. His eyes soften when they meet mine for a moment, then I watch anger take hold.
His dark hair and the shadow of his beard only add to the deadliness that lurks with him. His size doesn’t help. Towering over me easily, his broad shoulders fill the doorway.
“Who made you cry?” he grits out, stepping toward me and into my room. I step back, and he slams the door closed behind him. A lick of fear creeps up my spine, and I glance over at the open window. Before I can even look back, he’s pulling me into him, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hold.
I should push back. My panic should be rising higher with each second his arms are wrapped around me so tightly, but instead I melt into him. I bury my face in his suit jacket and let the tears fall, taking the comfort from this stranger. It feels so good to have someone hold me. It’s then I realize I can’t remember that last time someone hugged me, pulled me close. The thought makes me sob even more. Before this moment I would have thought I’d panic and fight to get free, but something about this is different. Right.
I feel his lips on the top of my head after a minute. The softness of the gesture doesn’t match the anger I feel pulsing off him. But I know it’s not me who’s causing that rage. After a moment, I realize I’m being held by a man I don’t know. Alone in my room. I jerk back, and he loosens his hold a little so I can look up at him.
“I won’t hurt you. Never. I promise you that on my life.” His words are soft, but I can still see the anger in his eyes.
“Y-you…” I stutter over the word. “You look mad.”
“I’m mad at whoever made you cry,” he says in the same raspy tone as before.
Releasing me, he takes the glasses from my face and tosses them away.
“Hey!” I protest, but he slides another pair on. The frames are thinner and there are no scratches marking the lens. They’re perfect.
“Better?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear. I stand there, shocked, really unsure of what’s happening here.
My mouth parts a little, and he runs his thumb across my bottom lip. His nostrils flare. “You smell like candy apples.” He moves his thumb down and runs it along my neck. My breathing picks up. I have the urge to lean into this man, but I don’t. His deep gray eyes hold me captive. “I’ll have to be careful with you. You’re so soft.”
I don’t think those words were meant for me. It’s as if he’s talking to himself.
“Who are you?” I know he said his name is Ash, but that means nothing to me. Here to save me?
“Tell me who made you cry,” he pushes, ignoring my question.
I drop my head, remembering what I’ve lost.
“I lost the money I was planning to use to move.”
“You want to leave here?” he questions, almost as if he likes that idea, too. He tips my chin up, making me look up at him. His touch is so much softer than I thought it would be. As if he thinks I’m delicate. His eyes search mine, and the way he’s looking at me makes warmth spread across my cheeks. Concern shows in his gaze, even through the trace of anger still lingering.
“More than anything,” I admit. “I can’t leave now. I lost all of it.”
“He took it, didn’t he?” I know he’s talking about my father, but I don’t answer him. I can see he’s pissed at the idea. I might not love my father like a daughter should, but I don’t want him on the receiving end of someone’s anger. I’d never want anyone to be hurt.