Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I'm running a list of things I might be capable of doing through my head as I step outside and turn to pull the door closed. My key, like always, struggles in the lock. I snap a curse for forgetting every damn day to mention it to Tommy, blaming the fact that I don't have to use it at the beginning of my shift for my forgetfulness.
I feel the heat on my back before the words come. "Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous it is out here at night?"
Chapter 7
Hemlock
There are only a few reasons why this woman leans back into me instead of scurrying away, terrified.
She's either looking for trouble, has no survival instincts, or she feels like she has no reason to worry, either because she isn't afraid of me or she believes she's protected through her association with Wilkinson and no one would dare hurt her.
Every one of those possibilities means nothing but a headache for me.
Despite the fact that she isn't trying to get away from me, I notice the change in her breathing and the way her hands tremble slightly with her set of keys in her hand. She doesn't clutch it between her fingers like she's planning to use it as a weapon against me. I have no doubt if I jostle her just a little, she'd drop the damn things to the ground, ensuring that an escape by way of her car would be impossible.
My body responds in a devious way to the thought of her running, forcing me to chase her through the woods and hills that surround the bar.
She reinserts the key, cussing for a second time when it doesn't twist in the lock. She pulls her hand away when I reach around to help her.
When the lock engages, I pull the key from the hole and dangle them in front of her face. She makes no attempt to pull them from my fingers. She seems to get a little lost when I trace the curve of her neck with my nose, her pulse pounding a few inches below her ear.
"Maybe danger is exactly what you're looking for," I say, my words more of a growl than anything else.
I take a step back but, instead of her using the opportunity to get away, she follows me, the warmth of her back pressing against my front. I fully thicken then, the promise of relief she's capable of giving me in the forefront of my mind.
Despite working a full shift in the bar, she smells as sweet and fresh as she did earlier today. It makes me want to dirty her up, to use her, and leave my scent marking her skin. I feel like an animal, much the same way I did when I saw that other man glaring at her when she stepped inside the bar a handful of hours ago. The look spoke of some sort of possession, and I knew I had to leave before I claimed her right in front of everyone just to wipe that look off his fucking face.
"I think you're the only thing dangerous out here," she manages, her throat working on a rough swallow after she manages to get the words out.
It doesn't take me analyzing her words too long to know that the rush I feel right now is tinged more with that very same calmness I have felt more than once when she's around.
I'm beyond aroused, but for me, that doesn't come with a raging pulse and harsh breathing the way it does for her. Mine is marked with a tranquil serenity that has only ever come when the tip of my blade causes that first drop of blood to bloom on someone's skin.
I'm far from a virgin, but I've never been this close to a woman who has made the voices in my head change. They aren't gone. They're just... different. They urge me to take her and hide her away. To protect her. To keep any other man from even setting eyes on her.
The danger in that for me is insurmountable, but even knowing that, I still can't seem to put any distance between the two of us. Feeding that part of me will only make it harder for me to control the demons swirling inside. I only nurture that part of me when I'm doing what I do best, and I have absolutely no desire to run my knife over her skin.
But even thinking that, has that one voice that has no problem calling me a liar whispering inside of me.
I swallow as I take another step back, groaning in frustration when she moves with me once again.
I can't do what I want. I can't press my palm to her lower belly and grind my thick cock into her ass. I certainly can't unzip her pants, urge her to grab her ankles, and sink myself into a cunt that I know without a doubt will be slick with need and begging for me.