Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Look like you’re about to bust, golden eyes,” Fury murmurs, stopping in front of me.
“That’s because I am,” I grind out. “Hope told me that she saw you with a woman last night.”
He licks his lower lip. God damn him. I force my gaze to stay on his, even though every single part of me wants to look at that tongue sliding over his full, perfect lip.
“Yeah, didn’t know she was goin’ to come in.”
“You have a child in your house, Fury,” I snap, throwing my hands on my hips. “You can’t just parade different women in every night. She isn’t stupid. She is asking why you have so many friends, not to mention the fact that she saw one of them on your lap. You can’t behave like that with a little girl in your house.”
He tips his head to the side, completely unfazed by my little rant. “So many friends, eh?”
“Seriously?” I growl. “Did someone drop you on your head when you were little? Because I’m certain you’re missing something.”
He grins now. “Your eyes turn green when you’re angry. Fuckin’ cute, really.”
“Are you listening to me at all?” I screech, throwing my hands up. “My word.”
“I’m hearin’ you, sweetheart, but from where I stand, it seems a whole lot more like you’re jealous than concerned.”
He cannot be serious.
“Jealous?” I sputter, shaking my head frantically. “As if.”
That grin gets wider, and, oh man, my heart is racing.
“You’re wonderin’ what it would be like to be on my lap.”
“I’m married,” I scoff.
Those eyes flash with challenge. “Don’t mean shit.”
“Yes,” I squeak. “Yes. It does. We’re getting off topic. You can’t do that when Hope is in your house.”
“I got that the first time you said it.”
“Why are you so damned infuriating?” I exhale, exasperated.
He doesn’t answer.
He just keeps grinning at me.
“Are you going to stop parading women around while your niece is in your home?”
He nods.
“Great. We could have just gotten to that from the beginning,” I mumble, shoving my hand into my purse to find my keys.
“What does it matter to you, anyway? Are you this passionate about all the kids in your class?”
“If they told me what Hope told me, then yes, I would be.”
“Or is it just that you enjoy comin’ here and yellin’ at me because I’m the only person you can let out your frustrations to that isn’t goin’ to give you a black eye.”
His words have the air in my lungs wheezing out and my entire body jerking. The cocky, arrogant, overbearing dick. How dare he say something like that so ... so ... casually.
“Excuse me?” I manage, my voice too shocked to work.
He crosses his arms. “I didn’t stutter.”
Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms, too. “Why are you so damned invested in my life?”
“Because,” he tells me, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, bringing it to his lips and lighting it up, “I want to know why a woman as smart as you, is stayin’ with a man that’s very clearly abusive.”
My knees shake as his words cause a reaction in my body that I’m not certain how to handle.
Too close.
He’s getting too close.
“You know nothing of my situation,” I manage, my voice tight.
“I have eyes. I can see plenty.”
“I’m done here,” I turn, facing my car, and my fingers stretch out to pull the door open, trembling more and more with every passing second.
Fury’s hard chest presses against my back, and I freeze, the keys slipping from my fingers as my entire body turns to stone. I close my eyes, holding my breath as he leans in, his voice at my ear. “No woman turns to stone when a man touches her if she isn’t bein’ beaten.”
His fingers stretch out and run down my arm, and I hold my breath, keeping my eyes closed, even though my body is desperate to respond.
“Not every touch is bad,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my neck.
I want him to stop.
Yet I don’t.
“When you’re ready to tell me what he has on you, then I can help.”
Swallowing the thick lump in my throat, I try to take myself away from this situation. I want it to stop, not because I don’t like it, but because he’s way too close to figuring out the truth. I can’t allow that because that truth won’t set me free. In his mind, I’m just the woman who is being abused by her husband, but that’s not the whole story. If he knew the whole story, he wouldn’t be so willing to help me.
“You can’t help me,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“You’re wrong.”
Fingers glide up my sides, and it’s the first touch in a long time that I don’t feel repulsed by. It feels gentle, soft, as he moves his palms over the soft fabric of my dress, his hands very carefully exploring. “Tell me why.”