Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
That’s when I know he’s true to his word.
After tonight, he’ll never let me go again.
I don’t remember dozing off.
Soon, I’m waking up in Micah’s arms. He carries me gently as he steps off the tailgate of the truck and lands on the sidewalk outside his house, so lightly I barely feel the jolt.
I open my eyes with a sleepy murmur, catching Grant’s voice as he leans out of the driver’s side window.
“Take good care of her,” he rumbles.
“I can’t do anything else, Captain.” Micah’s grip tightens.
Flushing, I hide my face in his chest.
I can feel his laughter, vibrating softly as he nuzzles my hair and turns to carry me up the walk. The click of Rolf’s nails and his jingling collar follow us.
“I see someone’s awake,” he says.
“Mm-hmm.” Curled up in the blanket still wrapped around me, I snuggle into him. “Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve had one hell of a night. Let me get your hands taken care of, and then you can go to bed.”
I don’t want to go to bed, I think. Not unless it’s with you.
It’s an embarrassing thought, but I can’t help it.
Feeling his arms around me now as the rush of adrenaline fades ignites something hungry inside me.
I’ve missed him.
Yes, it’s barely been a few days, but I feel like he hasn’t touched me in years. I’m exhausted, hurting bone-deep, and sore everywhere.
Yet all I truly want is Micah’s touch.
I hold my tongue as he lets us into the house and carries me through the dark living room to the sofa. He tucks me gently into the corner, smoothing a hand over my hair.
“Wait here. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
He starts to turn away from me, so tall and strong in the moonlight drifting through the windows, this striking white knight in black armor.
But I frown, reaching for Rolf as the dog jumps up on the sofa with me. He drapes himself halfway over my lap while I scratch his ears.
“Take care of Rolf first?” I can’t stand to see it, this patch of blood dried on his jaws from where he bit Bowden. For some reason, that upsets me more than anything, this innocent animal stained in red.
Thank God he wasn’t hurt.
Micah glances back at me, then comes back and kisses my forehead. “I’ll get him cleaned up, then you.”
I smile gratefully and touch his cheek, then watch as he turns away, flicking on the lights at their lowest setting to illuminate the cozy living room before he ducks into the kitchen and comes back with a wet rag.
He settles in with me and Rolf, hooking an arm over the dog’s ruff and getting his face licked. He laughs loudly.
Is it just my imagination, or is he laughing easier now?
Like a crushing weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.
I watch as Micah carefully wipes Rolf’s muzzle clean. He pauses in the middle of the cleanup and looks at me.
“…what? Don’t tell me I have blood on me, too?”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. Well, there’s a little on his bruised knuckles, but that’s not the point. “It’s just… you’re different now. You seem lighter.”
Micah freezes, except for the hand steadily scratching behind Rolf’s ears, and tilts his head. He’s wearing a puzzled look.
“I don’t know. I thought I’d feel empty after this shit went down, with nothing left to live for. Actually, I feel relieved. Like I can finally breathe again, and the air tastes different.”
“Does it taste good?” I bite my lip, holding back my smile.
“Yeah.” He gives me a warm, lingering smile.
And he finishes cleaning up Rolf, then stands and slips away with one more kiss to my head. If I had any inkling of loneliness, that disappears when I end up with my arms full of German Shepherd.
I can’t believe this beast used to hate me.
Giggling, I bury my face in his clean-smelling fur.
That’s how Micah finds me, when he returns with a first aid kit tucked under his arm and one of his button-down shirts folded on top of it. He’s traded his tactical gear for a pair of dark-grey pajama pants and nothing else.
As the lamplight paints his white skin gold, that lingering desire in me becomes a slow simmer. My gaze roams his sculpted chest, the narrow dip of his waist, the way his pelvis arrows past the line of the pajama pants.
With an almost shy smile, Micah holds up his shirt as he settles down on the sofa with Rolf between us.
“In case you wanted to change for bed. If you want to stay here tonight, I mean. I can take you back home. I shouldn’t have—”
“Micah.” I touch his lips, but pull back when I realize my fingers are still bloody and scraped. “Let me stay with you tonight. I need to.”
There’s something reverent about the way he looks at me, this new man peeking past the storm clouds.