Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
“You were. I would have had to track your ass down and haul you home. Don’t know what I would have done to him, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. Let’s just not do that again. You understand me? You need to be with me on that one.”
She pushed her forehead into her palm. “I’m with you all the way on that one. I need to get dressed.”
“You need to let the aspirin do its work. I’m bringing you a little soup. Drink all the water. You’re dehydrated. When you drink alcohol, Seychelle, you have to stay hydrated.”
“I wasn’t really going home with him, was I?” She was a little horrified that he was telling the truth. Images were crowding in. She was fairly certain she was never drinking alcohol again, so he didn’t need to coach her on how it was done properly.
“Yeah, babe, you were. I didn’t let you, so we’ll call it a near miss.”
“Thanks, Savage. I don’t know what the hell got into me.” She was sincerely grateful to him.
“You were scared. Running. You didn’t want to face the inevitable, and I can’t really blame you. You made a few mistakes, baby, and we’re going to have to address them, but that’s after you’re not hungover.”
“I slept all day—how can I be hungover?”
“First, I think you’re allergic to alcohol, and second, you didn’t sleep all day. It doesn’t look sunny because it’s so overcast, but it isn’t that late. I’m going to take you for a ride this evening to get you out in the fresh air. You’ll have to dress warm.”
Her heart did that funny twist, and this time her stomach engaged, doing a full flip. There was a part of her that hoped he was right and she really was allergic to alcohol. Still, she doubted that she could blame her bad behavior on that. She decided to focus on his offer. A ride on his bike. That could be just plain awesome.
“A ride? On your motorcycle?” She loved the idea.
“Yeah. That would be the ride, Seychelle. You have to learn to trust me, and there’s no better way than on the back of my bike.”
Now her heart was accelerating right into the danger zone. “Savage, I need you to tell me what we’re doing here. Because you’ve never really shown a lot of interest in me . . . um . . . sexually. I thought you wanted a friendship. That was difficult enough for me to try to explain.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, reached across her and snagged the bottle of water. “Drink this now. Who are you trying to explain our friendship to?”
“Me.” She drank because he sat there watching her, very closely, those blue eyes like twin flames just burning into her. She’d never met anyone who could focus completely the way he did. He never once took his eyes off her.
“You have difficulty explaining our friendship to you?”
Put like that, with that little hint of male amusement, it made her head want to explode. She sounded like an idiot. Exasperated, she drank more water. “Yes. What’s going on? It isn’t like you’re looking at me for . . .” She broke off, unsure what she wanted to say.
“I’m looking at you like you’re my everything, which you are. You just don’t know it yet, and you’re scared to death of me.”
She shook her head before she could stop herself. What was the use, anyway? There was something about him that made her want to give him the truth, even if it left her stripped bare. “I’m not so much afraid of you as what you’ll do to me. There is no way I can be with you and not get hurt. Really hurt. That cut-to-the-bone kind of hurt. I don’t want that. You already shredded my heart, and I can’t go there again. I just can’t. Knowing you’re going to be with other women so you can satisfy some dark craving I can’t . . .” She broke off, shaking her head.
She wanted to be the one to satisfy his darker cravings but was too terrified to do more than fantasize. She didn’t even know exactly what he really wanted or needed, only that every time she caught glimpses, they made her body come alive in ways she hadn’t known it could.
He was silent for a long time, those eyes of his drifting possessively over her face and down her body. She had one leg out from under the sheets. Her scarred leg. The pits went from her ankle all the way up the side of her leg to the top of her thigh, where gravel had dug deep. His gaze fell on that, and immediately he circled her ankle with his hand and began to move his palm up her leg. Even his touch was possessive. Every time he did that, rubbed with his palm, she felt he was claiming her.