Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
She doesn’t have to worry about anyone trying to hurt her ever again.
I’d kill before I let another man lay his hands on her.
I’d die, if it came to that, to protect my woman.
She belongs to me.
Now and forever.
Chapter Seven
Zoey
What the heck am I doing?
I try to make sense of it as Zack drives us through the city in his sleek black sedan. The back seats are covered in my suitcases, two bags, and a few canvases I couldn’t bear to leave behind knowing that Jerry could return at any second and wreck my apartment. I know he’d take great delight in destroying my art, the thing he thinks brought us together in the first place.
I’m in a car with a complete stranger – a stranger I’ve cried with, a stranger who saved me – and I’m going to stay at his apartment.
It sounds like one of the stupidest things I could possibly do when I think of it in those terms. Surely escaping the clutches of Jerry only to slide into the grasp of another man is a foolish decision.
And yet I feel a sense of comfort wash over me when I glance over at Zack, his face framed by the setting sunlight, his stark blue eyes glimmering as he scans the road as though he’s searching for Jerry.
I think about all the ways this could go wrong, all the torture and pain that could result from this decision. But I don’t feel any panic flurrying through me.
As crazy as it is, I trust Zack.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, in his gruff voice.
The growling quality in his tone sends flurries of excitement moving through me, as my overactive mind imagines what it would be like to prompt that same snarling under different circumstances. I imagine him standing over me, his powerful body heaving, as he lets out shivering growls of lust.
“About how crazy this is.”
“Yeah.” He laughs dryly. “I know what you mean. This isn’t how I planned on my evening going either. But there’s no damn way I’m leaving you so that freak can return.”
“But you don’t know me.”
He smirks, glancing at me briefly as we come to a red light. We’re driving away from the rundown area of the city toward the upscale neighborhoods I never have a reason to visit.
“We’re going around in circles. Yes, Zoey, I don’t know you. But…”
He trails off, a habit of his I’m starting to find really infuriating.
It makes me fill the blank space with what I think – what I wish – he was going to say.
But I feel like I know you, a mind-made version of him whispers. I felt like I knew you the second I laid eyes on you. Don’t you see, Zoey? We’re meant to be together.
Crazy vignettes assail my mind, images of Zack standing at an altar in a suit, smiling at me as I walk down the aisle. I see him leaning forward to brush a tear of joy from my cheek as I hold our firstborn child in my arms.
I feel the passion that would – that will – ignite in me when he puts his arms around me and whispers that he loves me, that he’ll always love me.
Jeez, I really need to rein in these stampeding fantasies before I completely lose control and I can’t think clearly about any of this.
Even that’s a joke. I’m not thinking clearly now, not even close.
He nods to the rearview, leaving his last thought aggravatingly unfinished. “You’re a talented artist, Zoey. That’s beautiful.”
He’s talking about the painting I started about a week ago, a ship caught in a whirling storm, the sky as steely as Zack’s hair. The ship is a tiny lost thing in the center of the piece, almost swallowed by the raging sea.
“Thank you.” There’s a ball in my throat. I have to push past it to get my words out. “I… It’s about the day my parents died.”
What the heck? Why did I go and blurt that out?
Surely it’s enough that I’m lumbering Zack with my Jerry-related problems. He doesn’t need all my childhood issues stacked on top of that.
“What happened?” he asks as the light changes and he continues driving us through the city.
“It doesn’t matter.” I turn to the window, watching the gleaming fronts of the expensive apartment blocks glide by. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
I whimper when his hand comes to rest on my knee.
Warmth flares up and down my thigh, making my sex tingle with even more force than was already captivating me before. It’s like he’s starting a fire deep inside of me, hissing beneath the surface, and all it takes is a single touch to fan it into wildness.
Does he know what he’s doing to me, or is he just trying to be nice?