Wrong (#1) Read Online Free Book L.P. Lovell, Stevie J. Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: , Series: Wrong Series by L.P. Lovell
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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“What the fuck”—Caleb’s wide eyes dart up to me—“did you do to her?” He’s already at the foot of the gurney, tearing open one of the medical kits. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he growls as he throws my hands away from her neck. The bloody shirt falls from the bed, making a sickening splat when it hits the ground.

“Watch the way you fucking talk to me.” I shove my finger in his face. “She’s not fucking dead!” I yell. “Fix her!”

He shakes his head as he mumbles something under his breath. “Hold this to her neck,” he says, passing me a handful of gauze. “And put the blankets on her!”

I take the gauze, pressing as hard as I can over her throat. Shit. She looks dead. I can feel my pulse in the back of my throat, and I realize I’m panting.

“Shit! She has hypothermia!” He’s pacing, his tone frantic. His eyes widen and shoot up to mine. “We need to warm her up, right now.” He gathers her in his arms.

“Warm her up? What are you gonna do, throw her in a fucking tub?”

“No, you fucking idiot! You’ll send her into cardiac arrest. She needs more blankets and body heat.” He lays her back down, running his hands over his head. “Fuck, Jude! Just fuck!” He punches the wall, then leans over his knees shaking his head. I can tell he isn’t exactly sure what to do, which makes me uneasy. He straightens up and inhales. “Okay. We’ve got to warm her up. And we’ve got to stitch that cut on her neck.”

My gaze darts to the weeping wound on her abdomen. Blood is every-fucking-where. It’s never bothered me before, but this...this makes my stomach turn. “The one on her stomach? You need to stitch that!” I shout at him.

“Shut up and just let me think.” He grabs his head, pacing again as his eyes shoot back over to her. “That can fucking wait. It’s not that bad.”

I stare at her, and I swear, she’s growing paler by the second. “We need to get her out of this damn basement. It’s too cold.”

Caleb picks her up, and I immediately snatch her out of his arms, bundling her in the blankets. I nod toward the door. “Come the fuck on. I can’t stitch her up.”

I’m taking several steps at a time with her clutched to my chest. I kick my bedroom door open. The doorknob crashes through the sheetrock.

“This is a fucking mess!” Caleb flips back the comforter. “A fucking mess, Jude,” he shouts.

I lay her on the bed and touch her cheek, hoping some heat has returned to her, but she feels even colder to me. “Why isn’t she warming up? Why’s she still so fucking cold?” I scream, pointing at her. “She’s got blankets. She’s colder than she was without them.” I can’t stand to look at her any longer. I don’t want her to fucking die.

“She can’t generate her own body heat. Someone else has to do it for her.” He’s calmed down a little, and is already laying out items from the kit he brought with him. “You're gonna have to do it. I need to sew her up.”

“Do what?”

He glares at me as he pulls thread out. “Warm her up...this is a little fucking far...don’t you think?” Caleb’s threading the needle, but his eyes are locked on me. “Are you gonna give her some body heat or what, Jude? I’m not gonna stitch her up if you're just gonna let her die anyway.”

“Shit.” I yank the comforter back to crawl in the bed next to her.

“Skin-on-skin,” he says. “It needs to be skin-on-skin to work.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not gonna watch her die, Jude! Take your fucking clothes off and warm her up!” he shouts. Caleb’s on edge, and I can’t really blame him. This is fucked up, even for us.

I strip down to my boxers and pull the comforter over us both. I drag her lifeless body to mine, wrapping my arms around her. I immediately cringe away from the chill of her skin.

Caleb kneels beside the bed. He pulls the gauze from her neck and tosses it to the floor, then shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to lay on your back and pull her on top of you. I can’t reach her throat this way.”

I do as he says and roll over, pulling her body on top of mine. He tucks the sheet up over her shoulders to cover her breasts. “This is all your fault!”

“Shut the fuck up and stitch her.”

He sweeps her damp hair to the side, and it falls onto my shoulder. I feel ice-cold water drip down my bicep. “I told you this was bullshit, Jude. I told you she didn’t know anything.” He jabs the needle through her skin. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move.


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