Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I think I love him. I’m not really sure because I don’t think I know what love is, but whatever he is making me feel makes me think this might be it. I don’t want to let him go. The things he whispered to me when we made love almost made me cry. No one has ever said such sweet things to me before.
My eyes water as I think about it and a tear slips free, running down my cheek, and it hits his chest. Cole’s stops moving.
“Baby, are you crying?” I look up at him. He moves before I can stop him. His body comes over me, caging me in. His eyes are filled with concern.
“You said I was beautiful.” The words rush out.
“You’re more than beautiful. You’re perfect.”
My cheeks heat at that. “That blush.” He moves against me, and his hard cock rubs against my clit. I wiggle under him. I loved being connected to him when we had sex. I've never felt so close to someone in my whole life. As if we were one.
Cole growls, getting up from the bed and bringing me with him, putting me on my feet. He walks over to his closet and I’m disappointed when he comes out with a pair of jeans on. They aren't buttoned and my eyes follow the trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband. I can't stop looking at him. He’s all man. I’ve never seen someone built like him before. Even the scarring on his shoulder makes him even more masculine somehow. Like a warrior who has gone to battle and won.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, closing the distance between us. He slides a shirt over my head. This one falls almost to my knees as well. It’s another army shirt.
“Did you get this in the army?” I ask as I touch the scar on his shoulder. I know he’d gotten medals, that he’d come home because of an injury, and I’m thinking this is that injury.
He flinches. “Got it when I was a Ranger.”
“Sorry,” I say, dropping my hand, but he grabs it and brings it to the scar.
“Not used to people seeing it or touching it.” His voice drops a little. “You can touch it, baby. You can touch me anywhere you want. I’d hate to think I couldn't touch you anywhere I wanted.”
“You can.” I give him a small smile as I run my fingers over the scar. “Will you tell me?”
“We were about to raid a house and I heard a click as one of my men entered. I grabbed him, pulling him back. I wasn't fast enough.” He lets out a deep breath. “The bomb went off. I was turning and it got part of my shoulder.” I trace over a few deep gashes. “Shrapnel. They had to dig it out. Field doctors aren't always going for pretty when they are trying to get you to stop bleeding.”
I get on my tippytoes to kiss it. “My dad was hurt in the army. He wasn't a Ranger like you. Took a bullet to the knee.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His hand tangles into my hair and he pulls me to him. I rest my head on his chest.
I have to fight to roll my eyes. “He shot himself while cleaning his gun,” I admit. Cole doesn't say anything. “He’s kind of a hot mess,” I add.
“I’m seeing that.”
“Did your friend live?” I question, wanting to change the subject from my father. He’s hard to talk about sometimes. He was a good dad at times and terrible at others. I didn't know if I hated or loved him. It’s just a jumbled mess inside me. One I don't want to touch at the moment.
“Yeah, he lived. He retired soon after. He has a couple of kids and a wife. He didn't want to chance never coming home to them after that day.”
I nod in understanding. If I had a family I wouldn't want to do anything that could harm it in any way. I’d protect them and want to always be with them. It's something I’ve always longed for.
“Come on, baby. Food, then you need to soak in a warm bath. I’m sure you're going to start aching soon.” I don’t tell him I already am a little bit, but I don’t care. It’s a delicious ache that I wouldn't change for anything in the world.
He pulls me with him into the kitchen. He picks me up and sits me on the kitchen counter, giving me a kiss on the end of the nose.
“I’m not a great cook, but I can make some eggs and bacon,” he tells me and shoots me a smile before he starts pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.
“I can cook,” I tell him. I swing my legs as I watch him move about the kitchen. He starts up the stove then moves over to me. I part my legs so he can slide between them. His hands go to my neck, his thumbs under my jaw, tilting my head back so I’m looking into the deep gray eyes that make it hard to look away from him.