Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I stir the pot of soup with one hand, the steam rising up and enveloping me in a comforting warmth. The kitchen is quiet except for the gentle bubbling of broth. I glanced over at Briar not too long ago—she was curled up on the couch in the living room, flipping channels with Jeb perched on the backrest. A few minutes later, I heard the soft sound of her breathing deepen, and I figured she was drifting off.
My phone vibrates on the counter, drawing my attention, but I decide to let it wait. I give the soup another swirl, taste-testing with a spoon, and nod in satisfaction. I don’t cook often, but for her, I’m willing to make the effort.
Suddenly, there’s a muffled cry from the living room. My heart lurches. I turn off the burner and rush toward the sound. The moment I round the corner, I see Briar thrashing on the couch, her face contorted in fear.
“Briar?” I call softly at first, stepping closer. “Briar, wake up.”
She doesn’t respond. She lets out another whimper, and I can feel my protective instincts flare. Kneeling beside her, I place a gentle hand on her shoulder and give her a soft shake. Her breathing is ragged, shallow.
“Briar,” I say, louder now, and she jolts, eyes snapping open. She looks at me in wild confusion, like she doesn’t quite recognize where she is or who I am. Her chest heaves as she pulls in frantic gulps of air.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, sinking onto the cushion beside her. I carefully slide my arms around her, gathering her against my chest. She doesn’t resist—if anything, she clings to me, trembling like a leaf in a storm. “It was just a bad dream,” I soothe, brushing a strand of hair away from her damp forehead.
She closes her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. “I… I’m sorry,” she manages.
“Another dream about Jason?” I ask, though it’s more an affirmation than a question. I already know the answer.
She swallows hard and nods, pressing her forehead against my collarbone. “Yes,” she whispers, voice cracking on the single syllable.
My jaw tenses. I can feel anger prickling at the edges, not at her, but at Jason—for haunting her even now, for lingering in the corners of her mind where he has no right to be. I need to find out what this bastard wants so we can go back to normal. At least that’s the plan, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m starting to wonder if I actually want “normal.” Because having Briar here, in my space, in my arms, feels… right in a way I can’t easily explain.
I tighten my hold on her, letting her rest against me. “We’ll figure this out,” I say, my voice dipping low, meant only for her. “We’ll find out what he wants, and we’ll make him back off for good.”
She nods against my chest, and I catch her scent—a mix of something floral with a hint of citrus. It’s unexpectedly intoxicating. Her body trembles slightly, and I wonder if she’s still caught in the grips of that nightmare, or if it’s something else entirely.
“Thank you,” she breathes, and then her eyes flutter open, searching mine. There’s a vulnerable edge there, a plea to be believed, to be protected.
Without thinking, I bring a hand up to cradle her cheek. My thumb brushes against her soft skin, and electricity crackles down my spine. We’re close now—so close that I can see the flecks of gold in her irises, the faint flush creeping up her neck.
She leans into my touch, and my heart kicks into high gear. God, I want to kiss her. I did once, but that felt like it was in the heat of a moment. Now, it’s just us, the two of us, breathing in sync, tethered by a tension that’s as charged as lightning in a summer sky.
I lower my head a fraction, my eyes locked on hers, silently asking permission. Her lips part slightly, and I feel her breath mingle with mine—warm, inviting. Her grip on my shirt tightens, her fingertips digging into the fabric like she can’t bear to let go.
An urge surges inside me, hungry and insistent. I brush my mouth over hers, tentative, testing. The softest contact, yet it’s like a flame igniting. She exhales a shaky sigh against my lips, and it’s all the encouragement I need. My hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
The kiss deepens, slow and purposeful, a whispered promise between us. Her lips tremble for a heartbeat, then part in response, and my pulse roars in my ears. I taste her uncertainty, her relief, and beneath it all, a spark of want that matches my own.
For a few seconds, it’s only that—her mouth on mine, the warmth of our bodies pressed together, the lingering fear from her nightmare melting under the heat of something far stronger.