Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Fuck you.” She pulled away. “I’m not simpering.”
“But you are self-pitying.”
“Can you blame me? After what I’ve been through?”
“You let it define you.”
“Fuck off, Jarrod. You don’t know a thing about me.” She stalked toward the fence.
“I know better than you think.” I stared at her, desire rolling off me in waves. I approached and she backed off.
“What do you mean?”
“You think you’re the only person that’s been through some shit in their life?” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into me. She stumbled and glared up at me, but I held her tight. “You think you’re the only one that’s been hurt?”
“Robyn said something the other day. She made it seem like you’re not the piece of garbage you pretend to be.”
“Don’t believe her.” My hand slipped up into her hair. I didn’t want my cousin telling stories about me, but I also didn’t want Cora to hate me. I was conflicted, angry, and half-hard. “I’m still a beast. And I’m a killer now.”
“We’re both killers.”
I yanked and her mouth came up toward mine.
I lingered an inch from her lips. I held her hard enough to hurt, but she didn’t squirm.
Her mouth opened. Her pink tongue pressed against her lips.
I moved closer.
Then she bit me.
I cursed and pulled her hair. She groaned as I dropped her to the ground and pinned her with my body. She struggled, but I was twice her size.
“Asshole,” she whispered. “Is this how you want it?”
“You can struggle, if you want. It might be fun.”
She glared at me, but this time when I kissed her, she moaned into my lips and flashes of need and longing and delicious sex rolled down my body in waves.
She tasted like heaven, like the tip of the spear, like hell. I growled as she moved her hips against me, urging herself closer. Baby girl wanted me to fuck her right here. My tongue invaded her mouth, owning her, dominating her, tasting her. I wanted to drink her up and keep her forever. I was a possessive dark demon and she was my soulmate.
But I ripped my face away. She stared up at me, moaning, writhing. She wanted me to rip her clothes off, tug her jeans down, and slide myself inside.
She was nearly begging.
Not yet. Fuck, not yet, and not here.
I stood up and backed away. She sat up on her hands and stared at me, breathing hard.
“You almost had me,” I said softly, the chilly air taking my words out over the quarry. “You almost got what you wanted.”
“And what do I want, Jarrod?”
“You want me to fuck you, baby.”
She clenched her jaw, but her eyes blazed. “Goddamn right I do. I want you to stop holding it above my head and do it.”
“You filthy little girl. You knew I couldn’t resist a little pain.”
“You’re like me like that.”
My cock raged at her words.
I had to turn away. “Let’s get out of here.”
I walked back to the fence. Each step was agony. Cora was back there, lips plump, body willing and ready, practically throwing herself at me.
But when I took her, it wouldn’t be out in the open in the freezing cold.
It’d be somewhere I could take my time and show her what she really needed.
She caught up with me. I helped her through the fence then drove her back home. As she got out of my truck, she hesitated, then kissed my cheek.
“See you later,” she said, and ran off.
I watched her go, every inch of my skin pulsing with want.
Things were going to get harder, but if we made it to the other side—sweet rewards waited.
I only had to hold out a little bit longer.
14
Cora
I don’t hear from Jarrod at all during the weekend. He texted me the next morning after ditching the knife in the quarry to tell me to get a new burner phone, but after that, it was radio silence.
He had a football game that Sunday and Robyn invited me along.
I wasn’t really a football person, but I had nothing better to do. The stadium was packed with local fans and students chanting, cheering, and drinking surreptitiously from flasks. Robyn seemed excited as the guys lined up down on the field, and I spent the whole game looking for Jarrod.
Everything I heard about him was true. He was a savage on the field—constantly getting involved in every play and making really hard and violent tackles. At least twice I thought he might’ve killed the opposing player, and every time he got anywhere near the ball, I wondered if it would be the last time he ever walked.
He played like he didn’t expected to survive to see the next sunrise.
It was hard to watch. I didn’t want Jarrod to hurt himself, but I was transfixed by the beauty of his pure, explosive strength and speed.