Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Her lips are magic. Her tongue spins the most wicked of spells. I tighten my fingers on the step. The pull in my shoulder makes the wound ache. I shouldn’t have gotten it wet in the water, but I don’t give a fuck, because she’s dragging her nails over my skin, and I come.
Fuck.
She swallows.
I could’ve pulled out, but I didn’t want to. I wanted her to take it. I want her to take all of me. She’s kissing and licking me clean, sucking me even after she’s blown me.
“Cas.” Everything I feel sounds in the way I say her name.
She makes me dizzy. I’m lightheaded with joy and heavy with regret because the clock is ticking. Maybe I should just take her with me. No. It’s not safe. I can’t risk her life like that. That would be exactly what I vowed not to do—fuck with her safety.
“Cas,” I say through clenched teeth. If she doesn’t stop, I’m going to hurt her with the intensity of my lust.
Finally, she lifts her head to look at me. “What?”
Diversion. “Why are you a vegetarian?”
She floats away from me. “Are you judging me?”
I grip her wrist and drag her back. “Just wondering. It doesn’t make sense for someone who grew up on a cattle farm.”
She shrugs. “When you’ve raised a calf on a bottle, it becomes like a pet.”
I understand. My father once bought these two, fluffy chicks. We thought they were pets, until they grew up and didn’t lay the eggs they were supposed to. We had roasted chicken that Sunday. To this day, Leon doesn’t put his mouth on chicken.
“You could’ve had a steak, you know,” she says, splashing water at me.
I wipe the drops from my eyes with my free hand, still holding her wrist in the other. “The curry wasn’t so bad.”
She splashes some more. “Would you have turned vegetarian for me?”
In a different life? Anything.
I let the silence settle. She’s just floating there, locked to me by the soft grip of my fingers around her wrist. It’s comforting. There’s space between us, but it’s filled with that buzz you get from a sex high.
Somewhere to the right, the bushes rustle. I go rigid. There’s no breeze. The afterglow of my climax vanishes. I draw her closer and tug her behind me, covering her nakedness with my body. It’s too dark to make out anything that far away behind the trees. It could be a hedgehog or a cat. Or not.
It’s quiet now, but I hone in on our surroundings with all my senses. We’re open targets. I shouldn’t have ventured outside, not without a weapon. She makes me lose my head and lower my guard. I’m not thinking straight around her.
“Come.” I get up and draw her under my arm. “The water is getting cold. Let’s get you inside.”
I grab the robe from where she’s dropped it and help her pull it on. I don’t bother dressing. Snatching up my jeans, I walk naked back to the cabin with her hand in mine. I keep vigilant, but nothing stirs.
“Go have a shower to get warm,” I say when we’re inside, slapping her ass.
She gives me an annoyed look from over her shoulder but does as she’s told.
When the water comes on, I go outside, get my gun from the truck, and do a round of the grounds around the cabin. Like earlier, everything is quiet. I go back inside and lock the door before joining Cas in the shower.
I’m hard for her again.
Chapter 13
Cas
In a tangle of sheets, I wake up to the smell of pancakes and coffee. It’s too early to be awake. The sun isn’t even up. Grabbing Ian’s T-shirt from the foot-end of the bed, I pull it over my head. It smells like him—a delicious mixture of shower gel, man, and leather.
Every muscle protests at my actions. I’m as sore inside as outside. We’ve had sex so many times, I stopped counting. I’ve finally met my match. Toward the end, I begged him to stop.
I follow the delicious smell to the living area and lean in the door. Ian is standing in front of the stove, flipping pancakes. He’s shirtless and barefoot, dressed in his jeans. A dishcloth is thrown over his shoulder. The wound sports a fresh bandage. My nails left red ridges on his back, but he loved it. I trace the deep grooves of his muscles and the narrow line of his waist with my gaze.
“Sit,” he says, still facing in front of him.
I push off the frame. “How did you know I was here?”
A smile sounds in his tone. “Eyes in the back of my head.”
“Right.” I pad to the table and take a chair.
Last night I’d been so frightened when I’d taken this seat. I still am, but it’s a different fear. It’s not fearing for my life but rather fearing the unknown. What happens now?