Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
My body reacts to hers at some caveman level I can’t comprehend.
But fuck, do I need to understand it?
I already know what I want—Delia, coiled around me twenty-four seven, legs spread, digging her nails into my skin until I’m turned so inside out I’ll never find my way back to right side up.
An insane part of me wants her heart.
The one thing I promised I wouldn’t take, even while I’m trying like hell to squeeze a lifetime of claiming her body into one week.
This fever of sex and sugar gets more demanding every day.
What should be a fun, easy dinner brings this acid jealousy.
There’s something strange and psychotic lashing around inside me every time she smiles, and I imagine her giving another man that same smile someday.
That smile should belong to me, and so should the rest of her.
“It’s been a week, hasn’t it?” she asks, twirling her glass.
“Yeah. I’m damn glad for the off time considering what’s coming,” I say absently.
“Oh. The cartel thing?”
I nod slowly, hating that I don’t have orders yet to pop some heads.
“No news is good news, I guess. It’s slow going to the endgame,” I say carefully. “My big boss, Mr. Strauss, he’s working with the Feds and Mexican contacts to authorize an operation that will put those fucks out of business. This time for good.”
She sighs sadly and sips her wine.
“The wheels of justice turn slowly, huh?”
“Too fucking slow,” I agree, shaking my head.
She smiles. “I love how brave you are, even after what happened... I didn’t realize how scary and personal your work could get. People would be dead without you.”
“A few more might still be alive,” I say bitterly, but catch myself. “And personal? Shit. It’s only inked on my skin forever, babe.”
She laughs, ringing my ears pleasantly.
“Seeing your tattoos tells me how serious you are, yeah. I mean, ever since I’ve had a chance to really look at them.”
“I think you mean taste them,” I say, my cock twitching at the memory of her tongue on my skin.
Her eyes dance mischievously.
We both just know.
Last night, I finally gave myself a breather after we exploded together three times.
She rested on my chest, running her fingers and lips over every patch of storming ink on my skin.
I told her about the trident, and even the three black triangles on my left bicep. They’re the latest additions, one for every man in my unit who never came back from Syria.
I wouldn’t tell her how or where, but I cracked.
I said enough.
I told her it was for them. The fallen.
Comrades in arms, men just like me who were only a little less lucky—victims of a fate I tempt every time I accept another mission with Enguard Tactical.
But I also told her it’s who I am.
It’s what I do.
It’s how I make sense of myself and my place in this clown car of a world.
It’s how I forget my rotten-ass days with a mother who always used me as a tool and the gaping chasm of civilian life built on the roofs of blood, sweat, and screams.
“You remember what I said last night? My ink, my life,” I tell her. “I was done with walls years ago, Delia. I don’t hide or water myself down for strangers. If that makes me rude, so be it. You know exactly who you’re dealing with.”
“Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I guess you gave me a pretty good idea of what it’s like being you, and everything you deal with. But there’s a lot I still don’t know, Chris.”
I shrug, tucking into my filet mignon. “Just ask. You ought to know there’s no need for shyness after everything we’ve done this week.”
I lean in when I say the last part, grabbing her hand across the table.
Her fingers squeeze mine slowly.
That blush on her cheeks strokes me hard enough to drive nails.
I meant what I said, though.
The girl has no reason to be shy when we’ve been fucking like maniacs.
She holds her glass up to her lips for a long time, drinking slowly, like she’s stalling to find the right words.
“Okay, so, um, let me ask you this... Why is Evie such a bitch?”
The way she blurts it out makes me drop my fork.
It echoes loudly on my plate as I laugh.
“You’re asking the guy who’s wondered that his whole life,” I say, trying not to sound bitter. “If you’re worried about my ma, give me something specific.”
Bullshit, I know exactly what she’s asking.
Only, my mother is the last thing I want to dwell on during our last night in paradise.
This is supposed to be our night, even if I know that’ll only make a clean break harder once we head home.
“I’m just worried about Dad. We know they made a big mistake and it’s probably on life support...but he’s so blind, Chris. He doesn’t see trouble until it smacks him in the face.” She looks down and sighs before meeting my eyes again. “I’m afraid she’s already trying to screw him over, one way or another. I just haven’t figured out why.”