Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I take a shaky breath, trying to process the intensity of the moment.
“Maybe I do,” I say quietly, my voice a mix of defiance and longing.
His eyes burn into mine, the air around us charged with electricity. “You don’t,” he insists, but there’s a vulnerability in his voice I haven’t heard before. “Because if you did, you’d know that I’m barely holding on here.”
His honesty sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s anticipation, not fear, that takes hold. I step closer, my gaze steady.
“Then stop holding on,” I whisper, my voice daring.
Hunter’s control finally breaks. He pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s fierce and demanding. It’s not gentle or slow—it’s desperate, a collision of need and unspoken promises.
My hands tangle in his hair, my body arching into his. The kiss deepens, and it’s messy, urgent, like we’re both trying to claim something we’ve been denying for too long. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my back, my hair—pulling me closer, as if he can’t get enough.
“Hunter,” I gasp, my voice a mix of plea and surrender.
He pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes blazing with hunger that matches my own.
“We can’t,” he says, but the words are rough, as if they’re meant more for himself than for me.
I tighten my grip on his shirt, my voice steady despite the trembling in my body. “Why not?”
Hunter’s jaw clenches, the tension clear in his muscles. “Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
My heart races, his words a heady mix of warning and invitation.
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.
Hunter’s restraint finally snaps, and he crushes me to him again, his mouth claiming mine in another searing kiss. This time, it’s deeper, slower, but no less desperate—an admission of everything we’ve been fighting.
When I finally pull back, breathless, my eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire, I ask, “What are we doing?”
Hunter’s gaze softens, his hand cupping my cheek. “Surviving,” he says simply, his voice raw. “And maybe finding a reason to keep going.”
The words hang between us, and I know, without a doubt, that we’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross. But in this moment, tangled in each other’s arms, it’s the only thing that feels real.
Chapter Five
Hunter
The storm comes out of nowhere, a sudden roar of wind and rain crashing through the trees, turning the forest into chaos. I grab Lark’s arm, pulling her close as we scramble for cover.
“This way!” I shout over the deafening rain, guiding her through the downpour. The ground turns to slick mud beneath our boots, making each step treacherous, but I keep her moving, my grip firm on her arm.
Ahead, I spot the dark mouth of a cave, half-hidden behind tangled brush.
“In here!” I yell, pushing her inside before following. The instant we’re under the rocky overhang, the noise shifts from pounding chaos to muffled fury. We’re drenched, the rain still hammering the ground outside, but at least we’re out of the worst of it.
I press my back against the damp wall, trying to catch my breath. Lark stands a few feet away, her wet clothes clinging to her, her chest heaving. Her eyes are wide, a mix of adrenaline and something else—something I’ve been seeing more of lately, but haven’t dared to act on.
“This storm isn’t letting up anytime soon,” I say, my voice rough. “We’re stuck here for a while.”
Lark nods, her teeth chattering. “Great. Just what I wanted—to be trapped in a cave with you.”
Her attempt at sarcasm doesn’t hide the shiver that runs through her. The cave is cold and damp, and her soaked clothes aren’t helping. I drop my pack, digging through it until I find a dry shirt and a blanket. “Take this,” I say, handing her the shirt. “Get out of those wet clothes before you freeze.”
She hesitates, her eyes darting toward the cave’s entrance as if she’d rather brave the storm than be vulnerable with me. But the cold wins out. She turns her back, peeling off her wet jacket and dress. I try not to watch, but it’s impossible not to notice the smooth expanse of her bare back as she slips my dry shirt over her head.
I tear my gaze away, busying myself with lighting a small fire near the cave’s entrance. The wood is damp, but I manage to get a small flame going. It’s not much, but it offers a bit of warmth and light in the cave’s suffocating darkness.
When I turn back to Lark, she’s sitting close to the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes locked on the flames.
“Better?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods, but there’s an edge to her gaze.
“I’m fine,” she mutters, but her shivering says otherwise.
I sit down next to her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re not fine,” I say bluntly. “You’re freezing.”