Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
She mewled, her eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, baby.”
Oh, baby.
Two words. Three syllables.
They were enough to bring me to my goddamn ass as I sat back and pulled her with me.
She came up onto her knees and leaned back against me, the entirety of her weight resting on my thighs.
And together we moved.
We ground into each other. We panted. We sweated. We made a fuckin’ connection.
One that I knew I should shove so far out of my orbit I couldn’t feel it anymore, yet brought in close, protected it, and built every fuckin’ wall around it I could erect.
Because this wasn’t something I’d ever felt.
Not with my ex-wife. Not with any girlfriend. Not with anything in this world but her.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed. “I’m…”
It obviously didn’t take much for either one of us.
Fuck.
With her teasing me all day, knowing damn well I’d been watching her every move, I’d been ready to take her from the moment I’d first seen her arrive at my place.
And now, with her clenching around me as she came so hard she all but collapsed, I had no choice but to follow right behind.
It was as we were both lying there, panting and spent, her fuckin’ hair across my goddamn face, that I said, “I’m on every single human trafficker’s hit list.”
She stiffened.
“I may not be the one they know is doing it, but I have enough skin in the game that it will one day catch up with me,” I said. “If that happens, you’ll be directly associated with me.”
Meaning, she could be hurt just as much as I could. Or worse.
Which was what sickened me more.
The thought of her being hurt in any way, because of the choices I’d made in my life, was unacceptable.
Just the thought of her leaving me sent shocks of panic through my veins.
I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
There was a reason I’d stayed away from any long-term relationships…yet I didn’t kick her out of my bed. I hadn’t sent her and her mom to a safe house—of which I had seven. I didn’t tell her to stop looking into me like I should have. And now, we were too far into this for me to ever let go.
It was a lose-lose situation for her, and she didn’t even know it.
“I’m a big girl, Winston,” she whispered. “I’ve played the controlling, not living life game. From now on, my every goal in life is to live it to its fullest. If what you’re trying not to say, but are actually getting across, is for me to leave and not look back, that’s not going to happen.”
My stomach sank.
“I don’t want to go.”
Well, that was fan-fucking-tastic.
Because I didn’t want to let her go.
CHAPTER 16
Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parents’ job.
-Crimson to Winston
CRIMSON
He left the bed in the middle of the night after getting a phone call that woke both of us up, and I wanted to know why.
So, when he closed the door softly behind him, I didn’t think.
I just reacted.
One second, I was in bed, naked and depleted where he left me, and the next I was slipping into one of his tailored t-shirts, yanking on a pair of sweatpants that I’d think about being too tight later, and shoving my feet into flip flops before running toward the door.
Luckily, I didn’t forget to check the peephole before leaving, because when I got to the door, he was standing on the doorstep with the phone pressed to his ear and a look of murder on his face.
Whatever had taken him from my bed, he hadn’t wanted to leave me to handle it.
That made me feel remotely better, but not enough to not follow him.
When he left, taking the elevator, I did the same and took the stairs.
He walked to the street where he’d parked his car right outside the apartment complex, and I ran to the back of the building where I parked mine in the lot after being followed to his place.
I poked my nose out of the driveway and looked left and right, spotting him to my left as I did.
Seconds later I was pulling out of the lot and hanging far enough back that I knew he couldn’t see me.
Or shouldn’t.
We drove for an hour straight through traffic—bumper to bumper, might I add—and didn’t stop for anything until a train caught us up well outside of the Dallas city limits.
I pulled into a Sonic and straight into a stall, wondering how long I would be staying there before the train was finished.
The answer was enough time to order myself a drink and a soft pretzel with cheese.
The drink was okay. But the soft pretzel? That was positively divine.
I wished I had time to order a new one, but just as I licked the last vestiges of salt off my fingers, the arms of the railroad track light went up, and Winston was taking off again.