Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Trent Lawson hovered at the doorway of his office, those sooty eyes taking me in like he wanted to see deep inside. Sift through my makeup.
More than likely, he’d read everything written inside, anyway. Had already picked up on the scent of who I was. Smelled the desperation. Sensed the vulnerability.
But the thing about vulnerability? It didn’t always make you weak. Sometimes the only thing it did was make you fight harder. Make you more determined to go after what you needed in your life.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Miss Murphy.” He tsked it like it were a sin. “You came, after all.”
My chin lifted in defiance. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
He chuckled a rough sound and moved to lean against the wall outside his door. He stuffed those tattooed hands into his pockets and slung himself back so nonchalantly that one might mistake him for blameless. But I wasn’t fool enough to believe he wouldn’t strike at any second.
“I would have thought you’d think it a…conflict of interest.” His head cocked to the side.
I tried to ignore the way my heart raced, thrumming so hard it had to be a palpable thing. “Conflict of interest?”
Undeniably, him coming at me this way was the conflict of interest. The dude was my boss. Clearly, he didn’t give a crap about that.
I got the sense he didn’t just ignore the rules, he made his own.
Coarse assumption flowed from his wicked mouth. “I have to admit I was shocked to see you standing with my son’s hand in yours when I rolled up this afternoon, but I shouldn’t have been, should have I? A place like that is exactly where you belong.”
Just like I’d known he would, he struck. Only it was slow. Like a wolf stalking…prowling…slowly stealing in closer until its target was cornered.
Nowhere to go.
My back hit the wall, and he was right there, invading my space, the man pure masculinity and greed.
Energy crackled.
A seething intensity that lashed through the air.
I inhaled a shocked breath, a mistake because the only thing it achieved was a rush of his essence sucked deep into my aching lungs.
Leather and nutmeg and the faint vestiges of cigarette smoke.
Only a fool would have the urge to lean closer and inhale.
But I did.
I had the sudden desire to press my nose to his hot flesh. To drag it up his throat over the tattoo etched there—a baby owl in full flight, its wings stretched wide around his neck, though its face was a disfigured skull.
My fingers itched with the need to trace it.
There had to be something wrong with me.
But I couldn’t help it.
The way my eyes traveled, so close, unable to stop myself from devouring as much of the exposed skin as I could.
Tonight, his tee dipped low enough that I could make out the words hidden in the whorl of colors and designs on his chest—Live to Ride, Ride to Die.
My mind spun, no clue why I felt compelled to understand. Why I wanted to ask him to explain. Who he was and why he was. How this hardened, terrifying man was the father to that adorable little boy. And why I cared so much.
I’d only met him yesterday, and the few interactions had already left me caught up. Swept away in a torrent.
“Aren’t I right, Miss Murphy?” He angled in closer, his voice dropping to a lure. “You’re meant to be there…with those children. Amid all that innocence.”
His lips were suddenly at my jaw.
Touching.
Igniting.
Destroying something inside me.
Chills streaked, and my head rocked back as sensation rushed across my skin and desire leapt in my belly.
Those lips murmured the words like an accusation as he ran them up to my ear. “I bet you even teach Sunday School.”
God.
What a dick.
I forced myself to pull back. “And what if I do?”
I totally did.
But I didn’t owe him a single explanation. Funny, how I wanted one from him.
Trent chuckled a menacing sound. “It would prove exactly what I’d recognized about you the second I saw you last night. You don’t belong here.”
I crossed my arms over my chest to put some space between us. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“One look at you, and I know everything I need to know.”
“What is your freaking problem?” I hissed.
He shocked me by suddenly moving to the other side of the hall, taking my breath with him as he went. He propped his back against the wall, smirking the whole time.
Even with the three feet separating us, he filled the space. Everything about him overwhelming.
Intoxicating.
I knew better than letting myself get drunk on this man.
“My problem? Not the one with a problem here. I’m doing you a solid, Kitten.”
“Wow, aren’t you ever the knight in shining armor?”
He scraped out a raw laugh. “Nah, not even close, but for you, I just might try.”