Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Literally landed.
How did this shit even happen to me? What were the chances?
Dropping it on the floor, I picked up the other towel and then started wiping at his upper arm, dragging it toward his wrist. I peeked up to find him sitting there, his eyes closed. His skin was smooth and golden in the dim overhead lighting. The shirt didn’t do his body any favors, but now I knew what was under there, and my eyes were never going to be the same again.
In movies, actors had to wear padded suits to look the way The Defender did.
But there was no padding in what I’d just helped peel off. For the brief moment I’d touched his suit, it had felt… well, not like any material you could buy in a store. And I was pretty sure he’d just incinerated it somehow.
The Defender’s throat bobbed as I kneeled there, wiping the towel over the tops of his hands and then his palms. His breathing seemed to still be a struggle, but other than that, it was steady. How did he get his skin so smooth under the sunburn? Or was it just the same shit that made him super strong that made his pores so tiny? Did he drink a lot of water? That’s what all the models said was their secret, but I didn’t believe that shit completely. I drank a bunch of water and still broke out from time to time.
“What day is this?” he asked suddenly.
That was a weird question, but I told him it was Friday.
The lean muscles on his face barely flexed, but they did. “What day and month?”
I told him.
I squeezed my hands between my thighs as I watched him take what seemed like another pained breath. I knew it was in my best interest to keep our conversations to a minimum, but…. Clearing my throat, I picked my words as wisely as I could. “Why you don’t know what day it is isn’t technically my business, but it is at the same time. Is there something I need to worry about? I locked the gate to the property, but that won’t actually stop anyone who’s determined to come in. Is there… something else I should do?” I dropped my voice. “Did you change your mind about reaching out to someone more qualified?” I had pepper spray. I still had bear spray from a camping trip last summer in Montana that had been pretty fun and only a little bit lonely. It had been my first solo vacation.
Those lean cheeks did that flexing thing again.
I pressed my hands together tighter. “Look, I’m sure it’s not everyday someone like you needs help from someone like me. I don’t know how to help you, how to keep you safe.”
He opened his mouth, and I knew, I just knew something sarcastic was going to come out of his pretty pink mouth.
“Not that you can’t keep yourself safe. Okay.” Oh boy, someone was fucking touchy. “I can’t even be a human shield because you’re bulletproof—”
“Invulnerable,” he corrected me.
I blinked. Oh boy. Excuse me. Maybe it was time I started playing Call of Duty again so I could get used to dealing with moody man-boys. “That. Sure. All I want to do is make sure that you’re okay.” I gave him another tight smile, ignoring the way my poor heart clenched. “That you’re safe.” It had been a long, long time since I had felt that way, but if I could make another person experience it, then I would do it in a heartbeat.
That got him to open his eyes and give me the most dubious expression I’d ever seen.
He probably didn’t know what it was like to not feel secure. Must be nice.
Scratching the tip of my nose, I took a breath and tried to think of another way to approach this. To approach him. “Listen, I don’t want someone showing up and accusing me of murder if you die. You’re—” I gestured toward him. “—you. It’s my moral obligation for the sake of the planet to help you, but I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be collateral damage if someone wants to take you out. No offense. If I had to be someone’s martyr, you’d deserve it, but I still don’t want to do it,” I rambled on, figuring I had to be at least mostly honest with him. “No offense again. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
That sounded real sincere.
But somehow, I knew it worked because just a tiny bit of the wariness on his face disappeared, or at least I wanted to believe it did.
I tried again. “Is someone coming to get you? Is someone looking for you?”
He said nothing.
Dammit. “It isn’t like I would tell anyone anything about you,” I tried to reassure him. “But I need to know if there’s something to be concerned about. You know, because I don’t want to get ripped apart by The Centurion.”