Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I gulp down my nerves and do what he asks even though it goes against every fiber of my being. “You can drive that thing?”
He sits down on the front and starts the engine, then holds out his hand.
I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering what he wants me to do … but then it hits me.
And my cheeks turn strawberry red.
“What? No, I can’t—”
Before I can say another word, he’s already reached over to grasp my waist and hoist me up from the deck and onto the jet ski.
He sets me down behind him like a goddamn puppy dog, growling at me over his shoulder, “Sit.”
I can’t fight the blush off my cheeks, and I hate it.
I hate it because I hate this man, and I hate what they’ve done to me.
But then he reaches behind him and grabs my hands, pulling them over his stomach until I feel every hard muscle, and it makes me gasp for air. “Hold on tight.”
I don’t have time to adjust before he turns the throttle, and we race off across the water. It splashes up against my legs until my pants are soaking wet, and my body becomes numb from the frigid air wafting by. Every second feels like an hour with my hands entwined around his waist, making me constantly aware of the fact that I’m holding the thick ridges of his abs.
But I keep reminding myself never to think of him as anything other than my captor, my tormentor, part of the group of men who kept me a prisoner in that godforsaken house as though I deserved it.
Instead, I focus on the fresh air and the beautiful moonlight cascading onto the waves as we skid across. By the time we get to shore, my teeth are chattering nonstop.
I quickly tear my hands away from his body, but my fingers still zing from the heat. He steps off the jet ski, his massive figure still making me do a double take as he throws his leg off one side, barely missing me.
We’re not even parked correctly, or however it’s called, and he’s already approaching me like he wants to lift me off. I raise my hands swiftly and say, “I can do it myself, thank you.”
I don’t want him and his bear hands anywhere near me anytime soon.
Still, with his penetrative stare boring into me, I can’t help but slide off the jet ski as quickly as possible even though my feet land in the water and the cold almost sends me flying.
Soren barges toward me, and I step aside to watch him fish the supplies from underneath the seat and throw them over his shoulder again.
“C’mon,” he says, and he starts moving toward the forest beyond the water.
Fantastic, more trees. Just what I was looking for.
“Just where exactly are we going?” I ask, but of course, he doesn’t answer. “How much more forest can there be?”
He snorts as he glances at me over his shoulder, the smirk that follows making me question my own sanity when my heart does a jump. “A lot.”
I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a funny joke or if it’s supposed to make me angry. Either way, it makes me sigh as we go deeper into the forest and leave the jet ski behind. In the middle of the night, it’s impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you. With nothing but the moon to guide our path, I’m really starting to wonder if he even knows where we’re going or if he’s just a loose cannon, taking me on a journey to God knows where by his own volition.
I shiver from the thought.
Away from the house means no more punishments and no more confinement, but it’s been replaced with the constant vigilance of a bodyguard whose best interest isn’t me. And that’s dangerous.
Out here, there’s no one watching us, no cameras to capture everything that happens. What if all of this was just a ruse to get me out of there so he could use me for himself?
A twig snaps in half, and I suck in a breath loudly and shriek a little from the sound.
He immediately turns around, his eyes homing in on me like he’s a projectile trying to hit a target, and I almost feel the need to apologize.
He puts a single finger against his lips without making a sound.
I swallow even though my throat feels like sand, and it doesn’t help much. I didn’t mean to get all spooked out from a dumb twig, but my mind was getting away with me.
Why does he even care? No one can hear us. We’re in the middle of no-man’s-land.
When he tries to continue walking, I clear my throat. “Could we stop for some water, maybe? I’m thirsty.”