Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
He didn’t know her, yet he wanted to avenge her, wanted to hurt the person she feared… so harshly until they were rotting in the ground at his feet.
And he’d do that for Hannah. He’d make sure she never had to worry again. He’d make sure she was in his life for him to protect her.
He didn’t even question that feeling, that reality. He didn’t know if after this was all said and done, he could let her walk away.
9
Several days had passed since the accident and Scars brought Hannah back to his cabin. In those days, the gash on her head was healing, Scars was keeping her fed—in fact, insisting she eat more than what she thought a grown man probably consumed—and he insisted she sleep in his bed while he took the couch.
She couldn’t deny that lying in the center of that mattress, thinking about him out in the living room, his big body dwarfing that couch, had this strange longing growing inside her.
He hadn’t asked any more details about who she was running from, but she knew she had to tell him eventually. Not only because he deserved to know the truth, since he was helping her, but mainly because she wanted him to know.
Hannah felt this burning need to bare herself to Scars, to share parts of herself she’d never thought to share with anyone else. He made her feel comfortable, at ease. He didn’t rush her, didn’t probe for details.
At first, he helped her with zero information, and when she’d given him a morsel of what was going on, he’d still been there, not demanding anything else from her.
She felt things, things that were foreign and strange. Emotions that made her tummy clench and her blood rush. She didn’t know what they were or why she felt them, but they claimed her when she thought of Scars and intensified when he was near.
Hannah held a cup of coffee in her hands, had a light throw blanket over her shoulders, and leaned against the window frame of the living room as she stared outside. It was early, but the sun was already up, peeking through the thick line of trees.
She could see Scars inside a small garage-type structure, hunched over the hood of her car. A tow truck had brought the vehicle to his cabin late yesterday and had backed the non-running car into the building. The front end was elevated by wooden blocks, totally smashed to hell. Scars had gone out this morning to see what kind of damage she was looking at.
Just looking at her poor car didn’t give her any hope. Even if he could get it running, how could she pay for parts, the repairs? She had nothing but a little bit of money she managed to take before leaving, and it sure as hell wouldn’t even make a dent in fixing the vehicle.
She exhaled, feeling this heavy weight settle on her. What the hell was she going to do now?
Scars pushed away from the car and grabbed a rag, wiping his hands off. Despite her depression over the situation, her body heated as she stared at him.
He was all male. There was no other wordage that could accurately describe Scars. The denim jeans that encased his powerful legs were worn, grease stains covering them. The white T-shirt looked equally as lived-in and dirty, as if he used this specific outfit when doing all the manly things that needed done.
The way his biceps flexed when he moved his arms had this tightening starting in her belly and moving outward to claim every part of her. She’d never felt this kind of desire before, the kind that had rational thought leaving and causing this primal need to mate take over.
She watched him leave the garage and start heading back toward the cabin, and she moved away from the window to quickly head back to the kitchen table. She’d woken up to see he made her breakfast, a big spread of bacon and eggs, some seasoned diced potatoes, and a big pot of coffee.
To say she felt something at seeing what he’d done for her would be an understatement. No one had done something so nice or selfless for her.
And when he told her to sit and eat, to not get up until she was good and full, she hadn’t been able to stop her smile from spreading.
She sat down, her belly stuffed from all the food, yet it looked like she hadn’t even made a dent in the spread Scars prepared. The front door opened a moment later, and she lifted her head to watch him.
His head was down, and this intense look of concentration covered his masculine features. When he was deep in thought, his scar seemed more pronounced. She found herself getting more aroused looking at him, letting her gaze travel over that ages-old wound. He seemed dangerous with it… well, even more dangerous than normal.