Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
So I ran.
And ran. And ran.
I made my way down to the water’s edge and found the gravel footpath that wound its way along the shoreline. Only a few people were on it, and I pounded my way past them, arms swinging and muscles working. Eminem pumped through my earbuds. My workouts were the rare times each week I allowed myself to sacrifice situational awareness for the sake of indulging in fast-paced music. The lyrics from “Lose Yourself” mocked me. If my opportunity to shoot my shot only came once, then I was fucked.
Because I’d blown it.
I’d kissed him out of the blue. With no buildup or romance first. No way of determining whether he would accept my interest or not.
And clearly, he did not.
Zane’s reaction was exactly what I should have expected.
He’d seemed to be into it while it was happening, sure, but that might have been him getting caught up in the moment more than actual desire. In my worst imaginings, he’d simply been going along with it while telling himself it was “fine” that his bodyguard was basically assaulting him.
He hadn’t argued with me when I’d stopped the kiss, and that said a lot.
He hadn’t asked for more, or apologized himself, or even waved away my apology and told me it was no big deal that I’d crossed all kinds of professional boundaries.
Clearly, for him, it was a big deal.
He’d been angry. And Zane Hendley was rarely angry at anyone. Ever.
Self-recrimination dogged me as my body pushed harder. Blood pumped through my muscles, and sweat poured from my skin. The worst part was, despite how guilty I felt, I wanted nothing more than to kiss Zane again. Now that I’d had a taste of him, now that I’d felt what it was like to cradle the back of his head in my palm while pressing my lips to his, I couldn’t even fathom the idea of never having it again.
But that way lay madness. I had to find a way to set aside my desire for him so I could do my job.
By the time I got to the spot on the gravel path where I needed to turn around, my head was clearer. What I needed was a plan. A plan to keep from fucking things up even more. A plan to keep from kissing Zane again.
But also a plan to get things back on track between us because… I missed him, damn it. I missed seeing his sweet smile. I missed his gorgeous voice as he hummed distractedly to himself while he waited for the toaster to pop. And I really, really missed the way it felt when he’d curl up beside me on the sofa at night and let himself relax.
I might never be able to have Zane’s lips against mine again, and I would surely never have him in my bed, and that sucked. But the idea that he might be so upset he’d no longer want me in his life, that I might have lost his trust and, with it, the privilege of keeping him safe, that I was no better than his cousin—yet another person he should have been able to count on but couldn’t—was fucking intolerable.
It took the duration of the cool-off walk back to the house before I came up with an idea that could work. It would take a miracle to create the kind of conditions that would make kissing Zane unattractive, but I just might have come up with one.
ELEVEN
ZANE
It’s hard to stay mad at a bear. Underneath that ursine stubbornness, bears are surprisingly charming creatures, constantly playing and testing themselves. This play isn’t just for fun; it’s how they learn to survive in the wild. But it also makes it nearly impossible to hold a grudge against them for long.
—Bear Facts for Insomniacs, Episode 27
I was still in shock. It had been twenty-four hours, and I couldn’t stop replaying the kiss.
Ryan Galloway had kissed me.
He’d more than kissed me—he’d devoured me.
And I’d loved every minute of it.
My heart thundered as I remembered the details. The way Bear’s large body had blocked the wind. The feel of his warm hand on the back of my head. The fact that he didn’t pull away when I kissed him back but instead stepped closer, had put his arm around me and pulled me tighter. The thick length of the hard bulge in his pants nudging my lower belly before pulling away.
The dizzying moment when I realized none of it was in my imagination.
Guitar in hand, I exhaled and stared out at the sun setting across the water. The sunroom was warm and silent. Only the echoes of the G major 7 chord filled the space around me as I tried to piece together the fragments of melody that had been tumbling around my brain since Barlo. But though the house was mostly silent, my mind was in turmoil.