Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“And that’s why he tore his arm up with a knife, is it?” He doesn’t give me the opportunity to refute him, bringing the wood between us.
I drop back down to the edge of the bed, my mind in turmoil as I stare at Danny’s comatose form. The ache in my heart, the kick in my gut, the butterflies that have taken up residence in my tummy. It’s love. I’ve fallen in love with the monster. I should ask myself how, but the answer is very easy. He sees me. Feels what I feel. Thinks how I think. And that makes what I’m going to do to him unforgiveable. Yet, I really do not have a choice.
Danny coughs, and for a split second, I worry that he might throw up. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles, rolling onto his side and sinking his face into a pillow. I smile, a little amused, a little sad, reaching for his shoulder, but quickly retracting my hand. I shouldn’t touch him. I shouldn’t light the spark.
“You’re wanted,” I say, practically on a whisper, aware that every sound might be amplified by a million decibels, making it sound like I’m screaming.
One eye opens, and it squints. I can see his poor, battered head trying to locate the memories he needs to tell him why he’s in my bed and why I’m here. And he obviously can’t find them. Brusque Danny appears, though I can tell it takes some effort, his face bunched in disgust as he wrestles his uncooperative body into a sitting position. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You mean in this room?” I ask, standing and letting him take in the space. “Because you demanded it. Because I’m your prisoner. Because this is your house, your room, your life.” I smile sickly sweetly, the natural feistiness in me that he spikes racing forward and smacking him around his hungover face. “That’s why.”
He looks down at his arm, taking in the bandages I wrapped carefully and lovingly. Then he scoffs and rips them off. It’s a message. “I fucking hate you,” he spits, wincing his way to the edge of the bed.
“Join the club, Danny,” I retort, heading for the bathroom. I hate myself too, and his stunned eyes as he looks up when I’m shutting the door tells me he’s grasped my hidden meaning. I slam the door and heave for a few seconds, my blood boiling. How does he do this? Get this rise from me? I suddenly feel like I have so much more to say, to remind him of every drunken slur that fell out of his stupid mouth last night. Why, I don’t know, but the urge is there, and when I have urges where Danny Black is concerned, I can’t seem to restrain them.
I yank the door open and put one foot in front of the other, charging right into his naked chest. I ricochet off his mass of muscles, forcing him to grab my wrist. The cuts on his forearm make me wince, and I drop my eyes, every word I had ready to fire disintegrating under his closeness. Under my guilt.
A firm grip takes my jaw, squeezing as he forces my face to his. I make it as difficult as possible, but he wins. I hope he always wins. Blue fire rains down on me through red-rimmed eyes, his torso subtly rippling from his labored breathing. Today is the day I’m sentencing him to die, and he’s not even in full working order. He’s not alert enough. If he was operating at full Danny Black ability, he might stand a chance. Yet, in reality, I know that the moment our paths crossed, we were both sentenced to death.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper mindlessly, my voice groggy with regret.
His head tilts in question, his forehead weighed down with confusion. I see softness breaking past his sharp face, but he quickly reins it back in. “Get dressed.” He drops my face and passes me, removing his boxers and getting in the shower.
My panic is instant. “Where are we going?”
“To the boatyard.”
“But I . . .” But I what? Can’t? “I’d like to stay here. I’m not feeling too well.” It isn’t a lie. I feel sick all of a sudden. I can’t go. I can’t watch everything unfold and know it’s all my fault. I can’t watch him die.
Danny’s soaping hands pause on his stomach, an incredulous look passing over him. “You don’t feel too well?” He snorts, turning away from me and continuing with his shower, his ass glistening like a perfect pair of hard, smooth rocks. “Join the fucking club, Rose,” he retorts nastily, turning the spray onto his face. He trails his palms all over his cheeks, his arms, his stomach, his thighs.
He steps out of the stall, grabbing a towel and rubbing it over his hair, standing utterly bare and beautiful before me. “Didn’t fancy joining me, then?” he asks, pure, infuriating malice in his tone. He steps forward and pulls the front of my robe away, exposing my breasts. I breathe in, searching for my veil of protection. It’s lost with Danny. Lost forever. “Shame,” he whispers. “A good fuck against the wall to let off some steam before my day would have been welcomed.” I’m too angry to be turned on. He’s trying to make me feel worthless, cheap, and I hate that he’s succeeding. Any other man I wouldn’t care. But Danny? After I’ve experienced him at his very best, I just want to slap his bastard face for being so hurtful. “Maybe I’ll call Amber.” He drops my robe and steps back, looking down at his cock. It’s twitching. He pouts.