Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Diaz,” I offered.
“Alina Diaz,” he drawled. His tongue slid slowly over each syllable, and it was the most intimate panty-melting two words a man had ever said to me. And from his cocky smirk and wink, he damn well knew it.
Jesus. I ducked under his arm and hurried inside, trying to put some distance between us. I saw Jaz sitting at a long table with a bunch of other men and he waved me over. I didn’t bother to see if O’Neill came in after me as I darted for Jaz.
Question 1: Would you rather be a vampire or werewolf?
The Mess
O’NEILL DID COME in after me. He also stayed annoyingly glued to my side as we helped ourselves to the hot meal. He even told some guy to move over so he could sit beside me at the table. And to my utter horror, his thigh continuously brushed mine when he leaned over to talk to Jaz. Jaz was enjoying himself immensely chatting to all the guys and completely at ease as he shoveled in meatloaf.
“O’Neill.” It was the guy I was introduced to as Gunner, who sat on the other side of Jaz. “Aren’t you taking the bird with Deck and Vic Gate? Thought you were trying for the JTF2 with them?”
“JTF2?” Jaz asked, looking from one to the other. “What’s that? Never heard of them.”
“Canadian,” Gunner explained. “Joint Task Force 2, an elite special operations force.” He leaned forward to address O’Neill. “You’re still going, right?”
O’Neill nodded. “Doesn’t start for six weeks. Headed in a few. Have shit to do here first.”
I was guessing the ‘shit’ referred to accompanying Jaz and me to the orphanage.
Jaz and Gunner talked about the JTF2 while I concentrated on eating and not choking on my food every time O’Neill’s leg, arm, or hand touched me. He was causal about it, therefore I was uncertain if he did it intentionally or not, so I didn’t call him out on it.
“Tell me about yourself, Alina Diaz,” O’Neill said. This time, his thigh knocked mine on purpose and my heart skipped a beat.
Why was I reacting to him this way? I’d met good-looking guys before, the guy I’d dated last year being one of them, but the butterflies had been baby ones, nothing like what O’Neill did to me.
O’Neill had this casual confidence that was really attractive. He was also intense and yet playful.
And the jerk thought I was an innocent schoolgirl when I was probably the same age as him.
I decided my best course of action was to pretend I was unaffected by him. “I’m a photographer.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that. How about something with a bit more meat?”
I was naturally guarded having grown up in a household surrounded by illegal activity, so I was hesitant about how much I told anyone. “How about you go first?”
He shrugged. “Okay. I love to do anything that gets my adrenaline pumping. I’ve been bungee jumping, heli boarding, and scuba diving with sharks. But what gets my heart racing more than those things”—oh, my God, please don’t say it—“is a motorcycle beneath me. Feeling the vibration, hearing its deep roar and the wind against my skin as I fly across open road…. Gives me goose bumps and a sweet-ass high. That’s fuckin’ heaven.”
Oh. Huh. I hadn’t expected that. I’d expected the daredevil stunts, but not how open he was about how it made him feel.
He angled toward me and whispered into my ear. “So what gets your heart pumping, Alina?”
Shivers trickled across the back of my neck and I dropped my fork on the table. It made a loud clatter and I jumped.
God, no chance was I telling him my heart pounded because of him.
He intently watched me with those gorgeous blue eyes then picked up my fork and passed it to me. “Babe, you seriously need to stop chewing that lip,” he muttered.
I instantly let it go. “Nervous habit,” I said.
“So I make you nervous, Alina Diaz? Why is that?” He actually looked interested to hear my answer. There was no cocky smirk, rather a curious expression, brows lifted and smooth lips resting lightly together.
“Well, you have a really angry scowl.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Been told that. Sorry, I was pissed.” I was thinking that was an understatement. His laughter died and he shuffled the last of his meatloaf around on his plate. “Look at this from my standpoint. I’ve been here two years. Seen shit happen. Had a few close calls myself and lost some good buddies.” I imagined a lot of these guys had and I respected every single one of them for being here. “I see this beautiful, sexy girl who I meet by kicking a stupid ball into her head, so I’m already pissed at myself, and then I find out she’s the one I’m driving over dangerous terrain and taking to the orphanage. Don’t like it much.”