Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
The realization that I left my bag, as well as a crime scene back at her mom’s, eats away at me long after my favorite distraction gets the rest she needs.
Her idea still sounds nuts, going back, I mean, but maybe the only way to get rid of Trap forever is to cut him loose the same way he’s hung me out to dry so many times.
Will it work?
Only one way to find out.
CHAPTER 8
Allison
My eyes snap open with a habitual jolt of panic. Life after my mom’s place hasn’t been smooth sailing, but I’ve never woken up in a strange motel room with an even stranger bedmate.
The gravity of last night is soon replaced with the soothing sounds and warm hands that made it all worthwhile, running over me again.
His eyes were the last thing I remember, and they're the first thing I see when I wake up.
“Sleep all right?” he asks, cocking a brow with a grin. I notice the dime-sized puddle of drool I’ve left on his chest hair and cringe.
“I haven’t slept a wink,” Killian boasts, shifting my embarrassment to relief once it’s clear he’s seen, heard, and felt enough of me all night to not be put off.
On the contrary, I don't think there’s anything I could ever do to put this man off. And so far, I can’t find fault in him either.
Except maybe…
No. No! It’s not like that. Killian’s just adjusting to the outside. He’s not-
“Crazy, isn’t it?” he asks, looking punch-drunk from a lack of sleep but still with that blazing look in his eyes. “Who knew this is how we’d end up, huh?”
I have to agree, and his crooked smile once he asks is so goofy, so not crazy maniac, that I can’t help but laugh.
My reflex is to tell him I love him. Tell him last night was the most amazing night of my whole life, but I bite down on it only because I know he’s not the ‘L’ word kind of guy.
Call it a hunch, but I think the motel room is the ‘romantic’ side of him, too.
That’s not completely fair, either. Killian’s made up for it in plenty of other ways—ways I know I’ll be feeling for some time yet, if the pleasant ache between my legs is anything to go by.
“Jesus! I can’t believe what we did last night…” I exclaim. More to myself than anything, but Killian thinks I mean something else.
“I know…” He smiles smugly, knowing full well just how much of an impression he’s left on me as well as inside me.
“I mean about the car, Mom’s door. Jesus, Mom!” I feel and hear my voice rising, getting panicky. The real world closes in on my fantasy night with Killian like an avalanche.
Killian frowns instantly, and it’s his first show of any signs of uncertainty—aside from any time he mentions Trap.
“We have to go back,” I decide aloud. His head bobs in slow agreement as if he has already decided it. It’s clear he’s not happy about the idea.
All the consequences I was so ready to ignore last night are pulsing against my mind, the least of which is my mom, as much as it pains me to say it.
We don't get along, sure, but I saw how vulnerable she was last night. The least we can do is make sure she's okay and hope like hell she didn't call the cops.
“What about the car? God, that creep’s wallet.” I gnaw my lip and try to chew at my nails at the same time.
The thrill of being Killian’s fellow outlaw and bedmate gives me a rush of intensity I have to say I kind of like.
“We’ll return it quietly,” his deep voice says soothingly. Seeing my agitation, he’s swift to reassure me we already covered what really matters last night. “I’ll fix the damned door, and we can take it from there. If there was gonna be any heat from it, I’m sure we would've found out by now.”
I wish I could feel so confident, but I meant what I said last night—I go wherever he goes. Consequences be damned. It’s better to have the bleed and then tie off the wound with my mom once and for all, anyway.
Even if Killian wasn't at her place, I know I don't belong there anymore. We’re just too different, Mom and me. I’m more than old enough to go ahead and make my own mistakes without her supervision.
“Hungry? There’s a diner on the way.”
“Y-you mean now?” I gulp, feeling less confident about going back the more he makes it look like it’s actually going to happen.
“Sure, I’m starving.”
He’s still got his ‘destiny’ face on, no doubt about it, but even I’m having second thoughts about actually going back now.
The idea sounds way braver in my mind compared to experiencing it. It was my brilliant idea last night, after all, even though it was really just the side effects of an orgasm overload.