Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
He lifted the hem of his shirt, wiping it across his sweaty forehead. Out of the corner of her eye, Jo caught sight of the sculpted abs she’d never gotten the chance to explore with her tongue. The sight of it was so distracting she missed the timing on her swallow. Water spilled out the side of her mouth. “Shit,” she muttered as she lowered the bottle.
Tracker chuckled. “Hole in your lip?” he asked as he reached out and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb. All teasing fled his expression as his finger made contact.
Jo sucked in a breath. It felt like getting hit with a cattle prod. Just that simple touch electrified her entire body.
His eyes darkened with need. The same look he gave her every time he made her come. When he should have pulled his hand back, he instead extended the touch, dragging his thumb across her lower lip.
Her breath caught. She shivered. Nothing short of a lightning strike could have torn her gaze away.
He stroked her lip again, and this time, she snuck her tongue out for a taste. His nostrils flared, and his eyes grew near black. Standing right there on the edge of the crowd with people yelling questions and trying to get a peek at the drama, her nipples tightened and her sex clenched with need.
“Tracker,” she whispered.
He stepped closer, gaze fixed on her mouth where his thumb still played.
He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him because she might die otherwise.
The loud whoop of a siren was the shock she needed to jump back. Her gaze flew right to find the ambulance rolling through the crowd, giving the occasional blare to move the pesky onlookers.
Jo looked back at Tracker. “We can’t,” she whispered in time to watch his walls slam down.
He stepped away. “Course not,” he said. “Guess I’ll see you around. Probably the next time you come to harass my grieving brother. Let’s go, Bets.”
“Tracker, that’s not fair,” she called, but the words landed on the back of his head and didn’t cause a reaction.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
So much for her day away from obsessing about Tracker.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE AFTERMATH OF an adrenaline dump always left Tracker antsy and jittery. Today was no exception. With each passing hour he’d been unsuccessful in finding the missing boy, Tracker’s anxiety had grown. He’d played this game too many times to be ignorant to what happened to little kids lost in the Florida heat. Dehydration, seizures, animal attacks, and even death were among the horrors he’d witnessed, and those weren’t even the worst. Children being snatched off the streets by predators claimed that title.
Finally, stumbling upon the child brought a sense of relief, but Tracker’s body was left dealing with the surge of fight-or-flight chemicals wreaking havoc on his system. To top it off, he’d nearly kissed Jo, who’d looked worn out, happy, and gorgeous all at the same time. The woman drove him mad without even lifting her little pinkie finger.
When would he stop reacting to her as if she was the only woman left on the planet and he needed to propagate the species?
Normally, one of three things could pull him out of this restless mood and settle his twitchy insides. Fresh ink, a brutal fight, or a down-and-dirty fuck. Ink was off the table. He wasn’t a huge fan of tattooing himself, and his personal favorite artist lived a few hours away. Finding a random asshole to beat bloody wouldn’t work. With his luck, he’d be arrested by Jo.
That left fucking. Since the first time he’d sank his dick into Jo, he hadn’t so much as glanced at another woman. Clearly, she’d done some hinky magic on his junk because the thought of fucking someone else didn’t begin to appeal to him. If he went out, drank enough, and found a woman to tug on his dick, he’d probably get into it, but the energy required to get behind that plan fled the moment he thought it.
Fuck. Maybe he needed to get away for a few days. Take Betty and hit the road. Ride to the Keys and find a quiet beach bungalow where he could watch the sunset over the water and drink until Jo was nothing more than a blurred memory.
He reached his truck and opened the door, letting Betty hop up first. The dog circled twice, then flopped down. She’d be wiped out for the rest of the evening.
His cell rang as he slid his tired ass onto the seat. “Hey, Spec, what’s up?” he asked after checking the caller ID.
“Hey, you busy?”
“Depends what you mean by busy. I just finished up helping with a search, so I’m free, but I’m about forty minutes out.”
Betty stared up at him with her soulful doggie eyes, earning a head scratch. He never could resist that face.