Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I kept describing things until my brain was no longer trying to pound its way out of my head. I stopped talking and tested my other senses. Warmth enveloping me. A weird citrus smell. Lemons mixed with something woodsy.
Skin.
Soft skin brushing up against my mouth. My fingers tangled in soft hair.
Cass’s hair.
I could still remember it from when I’d—
“What the hell?” I groaned as all of my different senses began to paint a picture. The last time I’d had my fingers in Cass’s hair was when I’d kissed him by his car.
I took a few seconds to take stock of where I was.
Sitting on a bed, my arms wrapped around Cass’s neck, my lips pressed against his throat.
What the hell?
I shoved Cass and scrambled away from him. My back hit something hard. The bed’s headboard. “Where are we?” I asked as I scanned the unfamiliar room. It was dark but only because the curtains were drawn. A sliver of daylight peeked through them anyway.
Cass was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but it was too dark to see his expression. It didn’t matter what the fuck his expression looked like. I needed to get the fuck away from him.
My head started pounding again as I began to remember the events that had transpired before I’d blacked out.
Jenna’s house.
Pursuing a guy down a hill and trapping him in an alley.
A kid and the guy aiming his gun.
Then Cass. Then Cass had been there, his smooth voice in my ear.
Bruce, cops, me switching…
I paused and closed my eyes to take in the rest. I’d switched my gun with Cass’s. I had done that, not Cass.
To protect him.
“No,” I said to myself as I shook my head. Why the fuck had I protected him?
The rest of it fell into place like the final pieces of a puzzle. Cass had shot the man in the alley. He’d shot him because I hadn’t been able to.
Cass had saved my life.
“Jesus,” I whispered. “Light. Can you turn on a light?”
I hated that I had to ask Cass to perform what should have been a simple task, but I was still trying to get my bearings. I was shirtless. I still had my pants on but no shoes.
The bed shifted and then dim light was flooding the room. I didn’t look at Cass. I wasn’t ready for that, so I stared at the bedspread covering my lap. It was the kind of blanket one found in cheap motel rooms.
His room. I’d asked Cass to take me to his place.
“Where’s my gun?” I asked.
“Here,” Cass said from somewhere next to me. “On the nightstand. Your phone is there too.” His voice held a note of disappointment. I waited until he moved away from me before looking up and searching out my gun and phone on the nightstand. I automatically grabbed my gun.
Cass let out a harsh, ugly little laugh that I hated because it didn’t sound right coming from him. I still couldn’t force myself to look at him.
“My gun’s there too if you want to be all ‘Billy the Kid’ style,” he said. I glanced up briefly only to see him walking away from me toward the bathroom. He was completely unconcerned about the gun. I quickly checked the clip. The gun was loaded, so why the fuck was he so confident? He’d been the same way when I’d confronted him on the canyon road. He’d walked right up to me until my gun had been pressed against his chest.
Daring me to shoot him.
It had been before he’d kissed me.
And I’d kissed him.
Fuck.
“There’s a T-shirt and a pair of sweats on the table if you want to change,” Cass called from the bathroom.
“Seriously?” I responded. “That’s what you have to say to me right now?”
“Isn’t wanting to know where her clothes are the first thing the woman asks in the movies when she wakes up half-naked in the good-looking guy’s arms after some traumatic event? I was just trying to speed things along so you can get the fuck out of here.”
“Asshole,” I muttered as I remembered the way I’d been curled around him less than sixty seconds earlier. I threw the blanket off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed until my bare feet were touching the floor.
“I think it happens in romance novels too,” Cass continued as if he was talking to himself, though I knew he wasn’t. The prick was just needling me to get the response he wanted.
I was glad he remained in the bathroom because I didn’t want him to see how unsteady I was even while just sitting there. My head was spinning, and I felt sick to my stomach. As I hung my head, I noticed that my pants were covered in dust and pieces of underbrush that had snagged the fabric as I’d been running down the hill.