Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Of course, he’s fucked her on his plane. And on every surface of the estate we’re about to share with him.
A hot ember burns in my stomach.
“Kody…” She grips my arm.
“It’s smooth sailing from here,” Monty continues. “If you feel a bump, it’s just me teaching my co-pilot a lesson.”
“Try me, old man.” Leo’s voice comes at a distance, barely audible over the intercom before it clicks off.
“Well then.” Frankie sinks back into her seat with a sigh. “We’re off to a roaring start.”
4
Kodiak
—
I shift restlessly, feeling stiff and out of place in these new clothes. They’re sharp, clean, and nothing like the rough and ready gear I’ve always worn.
Every so often, I look down at myself, startled to see the perfectly sewn seams and unstained leather that feels so strange against my skin.
“How’s the leg holding up?” Frankie’s gaze drifts to my knee, her nurse’s instincts overtaking her anxieties.
I can tell she’s compartmentalizing her fear to focus on me, something she’s always been good at.
The friction burn I got during the crash throbs persistently. It’s been three days, and the skin still feels tight and hot, the damaged layers sensitive to movement and touch.
If I adjust my position too quickly or the fabric of these new jeans rubs against it the wrong way, a sharp sting pulses through the area.
The pain isn’t just physical. It’s a nagging echo in my muscles, reminding me of every jolt of that crash.
Thankfully, the surface scratches that Leo and I received on our faces have already healed.
“It’s manageable.” I don’t want her worrying about me more than she already is with everything else going on.
“Make sure to keep it clean and watch for any signs of infection.”
It’s not just the injury and the new clothes making me uneasy. My eyes flicker to the window, drawn to the unfamiliar world speeding by. It’s all so different from the open, wild landscape where I spent my life. The change isn’t just around me. It’s on me, and it’s a lot to take in.
I lean back, my gaze grabbing hers again, making sure she feels every bit of my presence.
“What?” She flutters those long, sexy lashes, raising my body temperature.
“You’re beautiful.”
“You don’t have to say that anymore.”
“Why the fuck not?” I frown, not understanding.
“I know those months in the cabin took a toll.” She smooths a hand over her hair, catching a red lock between her fingers. “But I’m no longer starving. My confidence will improve as I gain the weight I lost. I’m working on it.”
Anger flares in my chest. Not at her but at the thought that she might believe her worth or beauty has anything to do with her condition.
“Woman.” I bend closer so she can see the sincerity on my face. “You’ve always been beautiful to me. Not because of how you look but because of who you are. Even when things were at their worst, it didn’t change how I saw you.” I reach out, grazing a thumb along her jawline. “You are strength and courage in a world that was falling apart. You’re the fire that warmed the coldest nights and the light in the darkest times. Your beauty isn’t just in your appearance. It’s in your spirit, your resilience.”
She’s quiet for a moment, staring at me. I know she’s processing my words, maybe not fully convinced but affected by them nonetheless.
“Every time I looked at you, even when you were struggling, I saw the woman who challenged the wilderness with me, who fought through every day with a heart full of hope. Do you know how attractive that is? You’re hot as fuck, and I will keep saying it as long as I live because it’s the truth.”
Her eyes soften, moisture gleaming. “Thank you,” she whispers, “for seeing me like that.”
“Why are you thanking me? Resting my eyes on you is a goddamn privilege.”
“I totally want to hump you right now.” She bites her lip.
My cock jerks as I recline in the seat and pat my lap. “Hop on. Or…” I jab a thumb over my shoulder. “We can move to the divan.”
“Not here. But soon.” She lifts a booted foot and nudges it between my legs. “I promise.”
The jet banks, and we turn to the windows.
Below, Anchorage stretches like an intricate, tangled web of concrete, the buildings rising in clustered columns toward the sky. And green. So much green. Not just trees but fields of vegetation I’ve never seen before.
I grip her ankle and remove her shoe. Lifting the other, I remove it, too. With her socked feet on my lap, I massage her delicate arches, feeling her tremble, her anxiety rolling off.
“It’s like watching a living map unfold.” I turn my face toward the window. “Everything is so interconnected. So designed.”
“It’s a different kind of wilderness. One made by humans.”