Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
And even if I tell myself to stop, stop—
Lord help me.
His go-to police uniforms and flannels tend to slim him down a notch, masking just how broad he really is.
Now I’m face-to-face with this wall of a man, solid and strong where most guys would probably wear that bulk awkwardly.
Not him.
He’s the perfect balance of rakishly fit and furiously large, a walking sculpture, crafted by hard work and a harder life until everything fits together just right.
Grant Faircross is a natural wonder.
Designed to rip your breath away, not just with his sheer size, but with naked, simple beauty.
I don’t even know if beautiful is the right word.
But he’s too handsome for life, his skin tanned and weathered into a dusky brown. A few scars form paler marks, giving his body character like a mountain and its fault lines.
Thick hair the same deep brown as his beard and hair furs his chest, marching down in a thin line, dusted here and there with the same sprinkled silver appearing everywhere else.
His shoulders are so wide he has to angle to fit through the door.
His pecs are like stone slabs, the barrel of his rib cage layered in dense ripples that cascade down to narrowed abs so lethal you could sharpen a knife on their edges.
With his hair wet and slicked back, his beard and his chest dotted with water, his skin still gleaming with steam...
God.
He’s so purely primal it hurts.
The unexpected sight of him awakens something scary.
Something that takes me over until it’s like I’m submerged in molten lava rising to secret places that have been dormant for way too long.
We both freeze, just looking at each other.
Grant caught mid-stride with his powerful calves flexed.
I can’t talk, my mouth bone-dry and my palms sweaty.
Oh God, I can’t help that I’m breathing faster.
I shouldn’t be this turned on just looking at him.
I almost hate how much he affects me.
And I wonder just how obvious I am, when the glint in his eye sharpens.
Just a heated flicker, turning hazel to melted honey. He spears me with a long look until it feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes.
I can feel my nipples peaking, teasing against my bra, my shirt.
My breasts suddenly feel too heavy, too sensitive, too empty, aching for large, rough hands.
I scrub my hands against my thighs, licking my lips and struggling for words.
Finally, he breaks the silence with a slow, heated smile.
“Shower’s all yours,” he says, moving toward his bedroom.
Aaand I’m speechless.
I almost let him go without another word, my tongue too knotted to move.
“Th-thanks,” I manage. “Oh, and I’m sorry you had to get Nell. Mom kept me around longer than I expected.”
Even if my mind’s so far from anything else I can’t even remember why.
“Good thing you did,” he drawls, pausing with one big hand on the doorknob, but all he’s doing is giving me a distracting view of the way his waist dips toward his Apollo’s belt. “I almost forgot you were picking her up and might’ve went out there anyway. Would’ve panicked for a minute trying to figure out where she was.”
I nod.
Concern darkens Grant’s eyes as he tilts his head, studying me. “Did something happen? It’s not like you to forget.”
Um, yeah.
That’s when I remember the shadow, the figure by my car.
The stalker I probably hallucinated.
I don’t want to worry him.
So I just pin on a smile and shake my head, letting that sobering thought drag me back to reality so I can stop drooling like I’m just discovering hot men for the first time.
“I just have a lot on my mind,” I say. “Worrying about Mom and Ros, you know. But I’ll get Nell next time for sure. Have to earn my keep around here somehow.”
“Like hell,” he growls sincerely. “I’m glad you’re around.”
Right.
From the way my heart’s thumping like it’s about to split at its seams?
This new, honest, uncensored Grant might kill me.
Especially with that slow smile, almost like he knows.
“What about you?” I ask.
Somehow, there’s this extra weight in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier when I saw him at the station.
“Can’t complain. Survived another bout of code pink and got into the shower before the smell set in.”
“Lucky man,” I say, snickering. “Are you sure you’re still up for a movie tonight after all that?”
“Gotta take the edge off wrangling pigs some way, don’t I?” He smiles. “Yeah, Butterfly. Wouldn’t miss it for the whole damn world.”
And off he goes.
Before he disappears into his room, a shaft of evening light spills into the hall, kissing every line of his body with lickable gold before it’s gone as the door shuts.
Leaving me marooned, dizzy, and nearly panting and hot around the collar, plus a few other rebellious places.
Oof.
I’ve never had a conversation that felt like foreplay before.
“Gonna faint?” chirps behind me.
I yelp, whirling with my heart skipping a beat.