Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
I’ve always been more attracted to older guys, but never like this. My heart is pounding. My palms are sweating. I’ve never craved wanting to touch or be touched by another person before. Not like this.
I’m thirty-three but I haven’t dated much. I haven’t done much of anything actually. I’m still a virgin and have barely even kissed another man before. I’ve been focused on work and that’s it.
But something about this man is pulling me toward him. I get an irresistible urge to strut into his office, sit on his lap, kiss him on the lips, and then see what happens next.
Instead, I swallow hard, trying to get back into FBI mode, and straighten my back. This is not the time for whatever the hell this is. I have to stay professional even if my knees are buckling. I have to stay focused even if I can only focus on that massive chest and those big round arms. And I have to stay firm even if I feel like my whole body is turning into jelly.
His face twitches and he starts coughing. He grabs a glass of water off his desk and downs the entire thing, but it doesn’t stop him from choking out a dry cough after.
I’m standing in the shadows like a creeper getting off on watching this guy in a coughing fit. Every time he coughs, his big muscles ripple and tighten. He’s so fucking hot.
I try to ignore the heat flowing through me and settling between my legs as I gather my thoughts. But the only thoughts coming to me are erotic and dirty.
I want to be on his desk with my clothes on the floor, watching as he steps between my spread legs and introduces me to his fire pole.
No. Not happening. Kirk brothers. Sperling. Aylwin. Reginald. Your life’s work. Focus.
Bad guys off the street. Deadly dragons. Big sexy biceps. Those lips…
“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter as I just start walking forward.
Chapter Three
Blake
I just downed a big glass of water, but my lungs are still burning. My whole chest is on fire.
Every breath is like I’m back at the house, breathing in the flames.
I’ve had lung and throat damage before from getting too close to a fire, but my shifter healing has always made quick work of it. Maybe I’m getting too fucking old for this…
But I don’t feel old. I’m only fifty-four and I can still keep up with any of those guys out there, even Westin and Rylan who are nearly half my age. I’m stronger than the two of them put together.
I clear my throat and cough as my polar bear goes nuts inside me. He’s flipping out and racing around, snarling and growling at me to do something.
I am doing something, I tell him. I’m doing the accounting so shut the fuck up.
I cough and swallow as I turn back to the papers, trying to focus. He bounds forward and I clench my body and tighten my jaw as I struggle to fight him back.
What the fuck has gotten into him all of a sudden? I just took him out yesterday.
He sulks back down after an intense struggle, but I can tell he’s not done trying. He wants out badly.
I can feel his desperate need. The fierce yearning. He wants her.
I just shake my head as I stare at the blurry words on the paper on my desk. There is no her.
Our girl doesn’t exist. She’ll probably never exist.
It’s easier to think that than to think the alternative—that she’s out there in this scary world where anyone can just take her.
My body shudders as I try to force out the horrible thought. It would be impossible to do anything if I knew she was alone out there where any man could talk to her or touch her. That thought makes my skin crawl.
“Stop it,” I whisper to him as he claws out my insides. “We’re not going to find her.”
And just like that, she walks in.
My mouth falls open as recognition hits me like a slap across the face. I know it’s her immediately.
It’s like a switch is flicked on in my soul. It’s like looking in the mirror for the first time and immediately knowing the person looking back at you is not just anyone.
This woman is special. She’s the one.
I drop the pen and slowly move my hands onto my lap as I sit up straight. I don’t know what to do. My body feels so awkward as I stare at her in awe.
I’ve pictured this moment a million times over the years. In some dreams, I run to her and pick her up, in some I kiss her, in some I tell her how much I love her and have yearned for her, but in none of them have I sat and stared with my mouth hanging open like a complete and utter dope.