Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I snort.
He’s right, though.
He did.
Fucker.
“Whoever it was better not come back, because next time, I’m going to be ready.”
Colt doesn’t answer that one, but he does give up halfway back to the house and reaches down, scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the house. Pushing the door open, he flicks on a light and walks over, putting me down on an old chair I kept inside. I covered it with a blanket, to try and make it a little less awful to sit on.
Glancing around the room, I can see his mind ticking over with memories as he takes it all in.
It must be strange, coming in here again after all this time. Every time he enters, he’s probably consumed with a new memory, something to remind him of what he lost.
“Does it hurt, being in here?”
My drunk mouth really doesn’t know when to quit.
“No,” he mutters, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a washcloth.
“Because you don’t love her anymore?”
He pauses just as he’s about to wipe my dusty face down with the cloth.
His eyes meet mine. “Don’t ask me questions.”
“Why not?” I mumble, running a hand through my hair to flick sand out.
“Because the past is exactly that, the past. Now, sit fuckin’ still so I can see what damage you’ve done.”
He goes around behind me to inspect the back of my head.
“It was a man,” I say, as his fingers comb through my hair.
I’m trying to ignore how good that feels.
I hate that it sends shivers down my spine.
Here I was wondering how Aunt Chloe got so attached and yet, when his hand is on me, I find myself unable to think of anything else.
What is it about this man?
“I know.”
I spin around. “How do you know?”
“He wasn’t small enough to be a woman.”
“Some women are big,” I point out.
Colt takes my head and forces it to face the front again.
“You didn’t break the skin, luckily for you, but it’s goin’ to be sore tomorrow. Shower, wash all this off, then you’re goin’ to have to sleep the rest away.”
“In my tent?” I ask, pushing to my feet.
He doesn’t answer.
“Why did you put that up?” I go on.
“You ask a lot of fuckin’ questions,” he mutters, dropping the washcloth on the back of the chair.
I tip my head to the side, studying him. He looks good tonight, with his hair down, slightly damp, around his shoulders. He must have had a shower right before he came to get me. The growth on his chin has gotten longer, making him look even more dangerous, and he’s not wearing his jacket for once, his biceps bulging in the black shirt that is hugging his chest in ways that is doing things to me. Don’t get me started on the faded denim jeans that sit low on his hips.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” he growls, his voice low and husky, but in no way is it angry.
If anything, it’s a little lust filled.
“I can’t help it,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. “You want to fuck a girl good and wonder why she keeps coming back.”
“It was a mistake.”
I roll my eyes, with a snort. “Isn’t it always?”
“Go to sleep. I’ll send someone over to keep an eye on the place while you do. Can’t trust you not to go runnin’ after a fully grown man again.”
“I’m not afraid of him or anyone else,” I say, yawning.
“Shower. Sleep. I’ll wait until you’re out.”
“You could join me,” I mumble, walking toward the shower. “Another mistake, perhaps?”
God.
I need to tone it down.
I just can’t help it.
Even with the guilt.
I want him inside me again.
It’s a big problem.
THE RUNNING WATER OVER my head is soothing and helps my aching, drunk body feel a touch better. I’m finally starting to sober up, and the headache is creeping in, especially after my fall. Colt is right, it’s going to hurt tomorrow. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and let the sand wash out, exhaling with utter joy.
I don’t hear the shower door open.
What I do notice, though, is the rough, hot hand that suddenly appears on my hip. Jerking, my head snaps up and my eyes open. I was so dazed, I didn’t even hear him come in. That hand, tempting and bad, runs up my side and then over to my breast where he squeezes gently. Immediately, the ache between my legs is intense. The kind of throb that makes it uncomfortable to stand.
He came in.
I didn’t think he would.
I was—mostly—joking when I threw that comment at him. You could say it was full of sarcasm, and maybe a little hope.
His hard, naked body presses against my back and his dick pushes against my bottom. I close my eyes again, moaning with a need that runs deep. The ache needs to be eliminated, because I’m not sure I can take much more of it. I want him to fuck me so hard my screams turn into ragged gasps. I tell him exactly that, in a low, feathery voice.