Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Lie back down,” I command her and she does as ordered, her arms under the pillow, elbows bent and her cheek resting against it. Kicking off my pants, I question her, “Carter said you got sick and haven’t eaten all day?”
“I did eat,” she answers with her wide eyes on mine. “Jase brought me soup a little bit ago.” She glances at the bowl on the nightstand, which is empty apart from the lone spoon. I brush the hair from her face with the rough pad of my thumb and Carter’s right, she has a fever.
“I was gone longer than I thought I would be,” I explain. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you.” I’m gentle with her, all the while thinking this is yet again my fault.
“I’m okay,” she whispers and leans into my touch. Good girl.
The bed protests as I climb in and under the sheets to join her.
“Show me your ass, my little pet,” I tell her as I pull the comforter back. A dark bruise colors her right cheek and another is on the underside of her left. My cock is instantly hard and all I want in the entire world is to squeeze her ass while playing with her cunt to give her both the pain and pleasure she needs.
She’s not well, though, so balm it is.
I take my time, rubbing in the soothing cream. At first she winces, sucking in a breath through her teeth. But then her body melts under my touch, relaxing apart from a chill that runs through her.
“How are you feeling?” I question her.
She shakes her head, her hair falling down her shoulders as she does. She’s fucking gorgeous, even unwell. Her tan skin and dark features tempt me as always. “I don’t feel sick to my stomach anymore.”
“Was it something you ate?” I ask casually although I have an idea what happened. I watched her stare at that chair beside the bed until she threw up.
“I don’t think so, just … I just think everything caught up to me maybe,” she answers softly, testing each word, careful with it. Her body tenses as if she’s afraid of what my reaction may be.
“I don’t want you to think about whatever it is that made you feel unwell,” I tell her and she stiffens further, her eyes wide open but staring fixedly on the headboard as I close the lid to the balm. She doesn’t agree, she doesn’t answer me and just as I reach down to bring her attention to me, she speaks.
“It’s all I can think about, Declan.”
I still, her chin in my hand as she peers up at me.
“I don’t know how to not think about it,” she says and her bottom lip wobbles slightly. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Then think of me. Every time you think of what happened, you give that to me.”
My thumb runs along her lower lip. Her skin is hot and flushed from the fever. “You give me that fear and I will take care of it.”
“How?” she questions.
I know that I shouldn’t. Everything inside of me screams not to say a damn word to her. That she doesn’t need to know and that if she does know, if she is lying to me and she’s that damn good, I’ll be fucked. But when she looks at me like that, I can’t help it. I can’t let her sit in that kind of pain and agony. “The men who hurt you are dead, Braelynn. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise,” I tell her and my pulse rages inside of me. I can’t guarantee that if she’s lying to me. All day today I’ve gone back and forth with whether or not I can trust her. Either way, though, even if she is a fucking rat, she is mine. And either way, this woman is my downfall.
I can’t fucking help myself, though.
She is my mistake to make and I would do it all over again.
“Even Nate?” She whispers the question and I swear I can hear her heart pounding.
“Did Nate hurt you?” An anger barely contained brims, tensing every muscle inside of me.
“No,” she says and shakes her head, “he was there when we left.”
“He’s the one who messaged me,” I tell her, carefully, but not giving the exact truth.
She searches my expression for something, I don’t know what but it’s irrelevant. Gripping her jaw, I tell her, “Look at me. You will give this to me. Any worry, you make sure I know it and I will take care of it. Any thoughts like what happened today, you tell me them and I will take care of it.”
“Declan,” she whispers like she’s scared. Like whatever she’s about to say is a secret she’s afraid of speaking aloud.